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POLLY’S SHOP 



















































“But do you 


THINK YOU OUGHT TO SPEND SO MUCH?” 
ASKED POLLY,— Page 156. 





POLLY’S SHOP 


By 

EDNA A. BROWN 

ll 

ILLUSTRATED BY 
ANTOINETTE INGLIS 



BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 




?%1 

’ Ho 


Copyright, 1931, 

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 


All Rights Reserved 


Polly’s Shop 


Printed in U. S. A. 


APR IS 132i' 

'J V 


©Cl A 36659 




To the little cabin among the pines of 
Diamond Hill, where this story was written; 
to the memory of the boy whose youthful treas¬ 
ures still adorn its walls; to the little lady in 
fur who shared the camp, and to her who loves 
Diamond Hill the best of all. 


5 
















Thanks are due to the Beacon Press, for per¬ 
mission to use the chapter entitled “The Old 
Grandpa,” which appeared as a short story in 
“The Beacon.” 


7 





CONTENTS 


Tells 

CHAPTER ONE 

About the Summer Plan 

PAGE 

13 

Tells 

CHAPTER TWO 

How They Named the Shop 

22 

Tells 

CHAPTER THREE 
About the Old Grandpa 

31 

CHAPTER FOUR 

Tells How Polly Went to Pona- 

GANSETT . 

46 

Tells 

CHAPTER FIVE 

About the Bookshop 

63 

Tells 

CHAPTER SIX 

How Polly Met Marcia 

73 

Tells 

CHAPTER SEVEN 
About Marcia and Bill 

86 

Tells 

CHAPTER EIGHT 
About the Dryad . 

96 

Tells 

CHAPTER NINE 

About the Strawberry Jam 

110 


9 


10 

CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER TEN 

Tells About the Ring-tailed 
Snorter. 

122 

Tells 

CHAPTER ELEVEN 
About Fourth of July 

131 

Tells 

CHAPTER TWELVE 

How Polly Kept Shop 

146 

Tells 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN 

About the Plague of Fleas 

163 

Tells 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
About the Whatnot 

173 

Tells 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN 

About the Pond Lilies 

192 

Tells 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN 

How Grandma Came 

207 

Tells 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
About the Breakfast Party 

216 

Tells 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
About the Clam-Bake . 

226 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


“But do you think you ought to spend 
so much? ” asked Polly (Page 156) 

Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

“See my water-horse,” she remarked . 82 

Rate wasted no time in argument . . 202 

The Captain heaped up the weed . . 228 


11 





POLLY’S SHOP 


CHAPTER ONE 


Tells About the Summer Plan 


T HE last Saturday in April saw Polly 
Winsor curled on the window-seat, think¬ 
ing how lucky it was that glass was made to let 
in light and to keep out water. On the other 
side of that window a great deal of rain was 
falling. 

It was the gray kind of rain, not the white 
kind, and it fell too quickly to be pleasant for 
the flowers. Grandma Clifford’s daffodils, 
bordering the walk to Three Gates, as Polly’s 
home was called, were getting dirty faces from 
the mud that splashed them. One could not 

13 


POLLY'S SHOP 


14 

expect either earth or flowers to drink water so 
fast. Such speed was enough to choke any¬ 
body. 

When she woke, Polly had been disappointed 
to find the day so stormy, but though she and 

\ 

Mother could not plant flower-seeds, Mother 
didn’t have to teach school, and would be at 
home all day. Polly had wiped the breakfast 
dishes and helped make the beds, and was wait¬ 
ing until Mother was ready to sit down. When 
that time came, she was to hear something in¬ 
teresting. 

Kerry Crumb, Uncle Jack’s Irish terrier, 
jumped on the window-seat beside Polly, and 
sat down with a sigh. He put his head on her 
shoulder. 

“ You tickle,” said Polly. “ Don’t breathe 
in my ear. And don’t lick the window. Silly 
Kerry! Don’t you know the water is on the 
outside? ” 


THE SUMMER FLAN 


15 


Mittens, Polly’s kitty, came into the room, 
and Kerry jumped down to chase him. Mit¬ 
tens liked a frolic as much as he. Round and 
round they went, through sitting-room, dining¬ 
room, and hall until Mittens had enough. He 
jumped on the table and from there to the man¬ 
tel over the big old open fireplace. Kerry stood 
looking up. He was panting for breath, and 
not a rug on the floor was in place. 

When Mother came in from the kitchen, 
Polly was straightening the rugs. “ Look 
what Kerry did! ” she said with a sigh. “ Up¬ 
set all the rugs, and made my poor kitty jump 
’way up there.” 

“ Kerry is rather rough with Mittens,” 
Mother agreed. “ I don’t think Mittens should 
be blamed for jumping anywhere to get away 
from him.” 

“ You are very rough with Mittens,” Polly 
reproved the puppy. “ If you don’t treat him 


16 POLLY’S SHOP 

better, I shall take him away from you, and get 
you a little rubber kitty.” 

“ Better make it a cast-iron cat,” said Mother, 
laughing. “ Kerry would enjoy chewing a 
rubber one.” 

Mother helped straighten the largest rug, 
and they sat down together on the window-seat. 

“Now, it is time for the something inter¬ 
esting! ” coaxed Polly. 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Winsor. 

“ Let me guess,” said Polly, snuggling 
against her. 44 Is it something for us all 
to do?” 

44 For you and me.” 

44 Not Grandma and Uncle Jack? ” 

44 Not this time.” 

44 Is it something to do in the city? ” asked 
Polly, greatly interested. 

44 No,” replied Mother. 44 It is a plan for 
the summer vacation.” 


THE SUMMER PLAN 


17 


“ Are we going to see Aunt Barbara? ” ex¬ 
claimed Polly. 

“ Not this year. You can never guess what 
it is, darling, because it is something you never 
dreamed of doing. You know Cousin May? ” 
Polly knew Cousin May very well. She was 
about Mother’s age, and though May lived in 
a distant city, they were good friends. Polly 
liked to have Cousin May visit at Three Gates, 
because she knew a great many stories, which 
she was always willing to tell a little girl. 

“ Cousin May wants to start a bookshop,” 
went on Mrs. Winsor. “ Her father thinks it 
wiser for her to try it first, just for a summer. 
Do you remember when Uncle Jack drove us 
down in Maine last August, there was a beauti¬ 
ful beach at a place called Ponagansett? ” 

“ Is that where we ate our lunch, and the 
sand was all pretty colors? ” Polly asked 
eagerly. 


18 


POLLYS SHOP 


“ You do remember! Yes, that was Pona- 
gansett. It is a place where artists go to paint, 
and there is a part which we didn’t see, with 
rocks and fish-houses instead of a sandy beach. 
Cousin May is going to rent one of those fish- 
houses and make it into a bookshop. And, 
Polly, she wants you and me to come for all 
summer, and help her manage the bookshop.” 

Polly’s eyes were sparkling. From her 
voice, she knew that Mother wanted very 
much to go. 

“ There will be the beach,” Polly said half 
to herself. “ And books! Oh, Mother, are 
we going? Mother, will there be any books 
for children, and will Cousin May let me read 
them? ” 

It seemed that the shop was to have books 
only for children, and that Cousin May would 
doubtless let her see them all. When she heard 
this, Polly got up and danced about the room. 


THE SUMMER PLAN 


19 


“ Mother! ” she said at last. “ I am so happy 
it ’most hurts! And when are we going? ” 

“ May and I are going as soon as my school 
closes,” Mother replied. “ That will be just 
before Memorial Day.” 

“ But my school doesn’t stop so soon,” said 
Polly soberly. 

“ No,” said Mother, “ and I wanted to speak 
to you about that, Polly. You know school is 
too important for you to miss. It will mean 
your staying here with Grandma for three weeks 
after I go. The Saturday after your school 
closes, Uncle Jack has promised to drive you 
down to Ponagansett. Perhaps Grandma will 
come with him, if she thinks it isn’t too long a 
drive for just two days’ stay.” 

“ Three weeks without you is a very long 
time, Mother,” said Polly. 

“ And it is very long for me without you. 
But there is school, you know.” 


20 


POLLY’S SHOP 


Yes, Polly knew. Mother explained that 
the reason she could not wait for Polly’s school 
to close was because Cousin May needed her 
help in getting the fish-house ready to use for a 
bookshop. When she heard this, Polly saw 
that it would be selfish to expect their plans to 
be changed for her. 

“But I wish Grandma could come and be 
with us all summer,” she said. 

“ I wish so, too. But you see, Polly, I don’t 
know just how comfortable that fish-house is 
going to be. IN’ow, you and I don’t mind camp¬ 
ing, and we can wash our faces at the kitchen 
sink, if necessary, and I am pretty sure that 
will be the only place to wash them, and we can 
take our baths in the ocean, and so can Cousin 
May, but you know a house like that wouldn’t 
be so pleasant for Grandma.” 

Polly agreed that this was so. Mother added 
that perhaps, when Uncle Jack had his two 


THE SUMMER PLAN 


21 


weeks’ vacation in August, both he and 
Grandma would come and stay at some hotel 
or boarding-house. That could be decided 
later. The important thing was that Cousin 
May was to have her bookshop, and that Mother 
and Polly were to help her sell the books. 


CHAPTER TWO 


Tells How They Named the Shop 

C OUSIN MAY came to spend the next 
week-end with Mother and to talk about 
the shop. She told Polly that she could help 
her a great deal by reading the new books as 
they came. Then, when a little girl could not 
make up her mind which of two books to buy, 
Polly could tell her about both, and help her 
decide. 

Polly didn’t know about that part. To read 
the books would be delightful, but telling 
strange little girls about them was quite a dif¬ 
ferent matter. Still, if it would help Cousin 
May, she would do her best. 

Another way she could help was to make a 

22 


THE SHOP 23 

list of all the books she liked best, and the 
stories she best liked to hear. Cousin May 
would be sure to buy these books and would tell 
some of the stories. That was a part of the 
plan, — a story-hour for children who were 
staying at the beach. Mothers would buy 
tickets so that the children could come for the 
stories. 

When she heard this, Polly looked sober. 

“ But I didn’t mean that you must buy a 
ticket, Polly dear,” exclaimed Cousin May 
when she saw that serious expression. “You 
are to be part of the bookshop, you know, and 
so you are to hear all the stories.” 

Polly gave a little sigh of content. A great 
many stories had come her way in the eight 
years of her life, and it seemed quite dreadful 
to think that some little girls had heard so few 
that their mothers would pay to have some told 
to them. 


24 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“ I thought all mothers could tell stories,” 
she said. 

“ Some mothers are too busy, and some don’t 
know the right kind of stories,” Cousin May 
explained. 

There was great discussion as to what to name 
the bookshop. Cousin May suggested The 
Oyster Shell. Mother thought of The Gray 
Gull. Uncle Jack rapidly suggested one name 
after another: The Pirate Cave; The Limping 
Lobster; The Lame Crab; The Last Chance; 
The Kippered Herring; The Baited Hook; 
until Cousin May threw a sofa-pillow at him. 

When Uncle Jack and Cousin May had 
picked up the four books and all the spools 
and pins and buttons from Grandma’s work- 
basket, and the little table they had upset in 
their frolic, and had agreed that the base of 
the electric lamp was not hurt, and that its 
parchment shade looked even prettier for a 


THE SHOP 25 

slight dent, they asked Grandma what name 
she would suggest. 

“ I haven’t an idea,” said Grandma, “except 
that I would choose a name that wasn’t queer, 
and that would sound like an invitation to 
come in.” 

“ But that is just what we are trying to find,” 
her daughter and her niece said together. 

“ How about The Fish-Trap? ” Uncle Jack 
began again, but Cousin May held up a hand to 
stop him, and turned to Polly. 

“ What would you call it? ” she asked. “ Sup¬ 
pose it were your very own bookshop, what 
would you name it? ” 

“ If it were mine, really mine,” said Polly, 
with her eyes shining, “ I would just call it my 
shop, — Polly’s Shop.” 

Cousin May and Mother looked at each other. 
“ Let’s! ” they said. Uncle Jack grabbed the 
sofa-pillow. 


26 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“ Jack! ” exclaimed Grandma. “ Don’t up¬ 
set anything more.” 

“ I’m congratulating this wise child,” said 
Uncle Jack, and he threw the pillow up to the 
ceiling. “ Polly’s Shop! Just the checker! ” 

“ A hanging sign, with a little girl reading 
a book,” began Cousin May. 

“ Which Edith can paint,” interrupted Un¬ 
cle Jack, looking at his sister. “ How does 
that name strike you, Mother? ” 

“ It certainly is not queer,” said Mrs. Clif¬ 
ford slowly, “ and, yes,” she added with a smile 
at her little granddaughter, “ it sounds as 
though it would be pleasant to visit it.” 

“ But it isn’t my shop,” said Polly doubt¬ 
fully. “ It belongs to Cousin May.” 

“You would lend me your name, wouldn’t 
you, Polly dear? ” coaxed Cousin May. 

“ Yes,” said Polly. “ If you want it. Only, 


would it be true? ” 


THE SHOP 


27 


“ True enough for the purpose,” said Cousin 
May. “ We will name the little girl on the 
sign, the sign Mother is to make. She will he 
Polly, and the lettering will read ‘Polly’s Shop.’ 
People who come to buy books needn’t know 
that you are Polly, too.” 

That made it seem right to Polly. “ I’ll lend 
the little girl my name,” she agreed happily. 

Then they began to talk about book-shelves, 
and about staining the inside of the fish-house, 
and about wearing smocks, and whether Mother 
should take some of the pretty things she was 
always making, and have them for sale with 
the books. They forgot Polly’s bedtime. She 
grew quiet and then sleepy. Uncle Jack saw 
her eyes closing, and scooped her into his arms. 

“ Look at your neglected child, Edith? ” he 
exclaimed. “ Here she is perishing with sleep, 
and you sit talking about smocks.” 

“ Carry her upstairs,” said Grandma, laying 


28 POLLY’S SHOP 

down her sewing. “ I’ll put her to bed, Edith, 
and you and May can finish your plans.” 

There were too many plans to be completed 
in that one visit from Cousin May, and some 
had to be arranged by letter. It seemed to 
Polly that Mother was busier than ever, and 
she never had been idle. Between the garden, 
which needed much weeding, as well as plant¬ 
ing, and making the sign for the bookshop, and 
helping Uncle Jack plan about the shelves, and 
seeing about Polly’s summer clothes, because 
she had outgrown everything she had, there 
were fewer Saturday picnics than usual. 

The weeks seemed like little dashes between 
two dots for Sundays, and the last week in May 
was busiest of all. Mother’s school in the city 
closed, and then there was a great deal of pack¬ 
ing to be done. Uncle Jack was to drive her 
down to Ponagansett and help them get settled. 

They left about six the evening before Me- 


THE SHOP 29 

morial Day. Justin, Uncle Jack’s little Ford, 
was so crammed with luggage that it did not 
look as though there was room to add even a 
postage-stamp. Piled along the running- 
boards were the shelves and uprights for the 
cases to be put up in the bookshop. Uncle Jack 
had made them to measures which Cousin May 
sent. Grandma was doubtful about their fit¬ 
ting. 

“ I shall take a saw and a hammer and nails,” 
Uncle Jack told her. 44 Being an architect, I 
understand the use of a few simple tools.” 

Polly laughed. When she thought of all 
the pencils and the odd-shaped drawing-tools 
which littered Uncle Jack’s drafting-table in 
the attic workroom, it would indeed be odd if 
he could not saw a board or drive a nail where 
it was needed. 

It was well that Polly had something to laugh 
at, because having Mother go for three whole 


30 POLLYS SHOP 

weeks before she could join her was a sobering 
thought. Grandma was serious, too, but partly 
because she did not like them to start so late, 
nor drive so far after dark. There were kisses 
and hugs and waving hands till the car was out 
of sight, and then Polly suddenly thought that 
in the excitement of their starting, she had for¬ 
gotten to tell Mother about a most interesting 
thing that happened that afternoon in the chil¬ 
dren’s room of the Public Library. She told 
Grandma all about it, while they were work¬ 
ing together in the pretty kitchen, the kitchen 
which Polly had helped paint as a Thanksgiving 
surprise for Grandma. 

It was about an old man who made a mistake 
in the library doors and came to the children’s 
room instead of upstairs where the older peo¬ 
ple belonged. And his mistake ended in a way 
that so interested the children that it is a story 
all by itself and must have a chapter of its own. 


CHAPTER THREE 


Tells About the Old Grandpa 

I T was on a rainy Friday afternoon that the 
old man first came to the children’s room 
at the Longfield Public Library. Because it 
rained, books to read at home that evening were 
important, and the room was crowded with boys 
and girls. 

The old man looked around with a timid 
smile, but nobody seemed to notice him. Miss 
Burt and Miss Canfield were both busy at the 
desk, and the children were choosing stories. 
For some time he looked along the shelves, and 
then took a volume and sat down at the table 
with the littlest children. It was the table that 
held the picture-books. 

Later in the afternoon, Miss Burt noticed 


31 


32 POLLY’S SHOP 

him, absorbed in his book. He was perfectly 
quiet, only, as he read, he pronounced each word 
with his lips, without making any sound. When 
the whistles blew at six o’clock, the old man 
rose and put his book back in the place it be¬ 
longed. He looked across the room at Miss 
Burt, made her a funny little bow, and went 
away. 

The next afternoon he came again and sat 
at the same table with the same book. This 
time the children noticed him. 

“ This is our room,” said Morris Troubetsky 
to Miss Burt. “ The big people have their 
own place. He ought to go there to read.” 

“ Probably he won’t come again,” said Miss 
Burt. “ If he is a stranger in town, maybe he 
doesn’t know that there is another part to the 
building.” 

“ I could tell him,” said Tanis. “ I could 
show him the other door to the big library.” 


THE OLD GRANDPA 


33 


“ There is room for him here,” said Miss 
Burt. “ He is not doing anybody any harm, 
is he?” 

“ No-o,” said Morris doubtfully, “ only it is 
our room and he doesn’t belong here.” 

“ I think we had better let him stay,” said 
Tanis. “ Perhaps he is somebody’s grandpa, 
and that is a book he read when he was a little 
boy.~ 

“ I feel sure he is somebody’s grandpa,” 
agreed Miss Burt. “ Let’s treat him as we 
would want our own grandpas to be treated.” 

“ That would be politely,” admitted Morris, 

« 

and the other children around Miss Burt’s desk 
agreed that the old grandpa should not be told 
that he was not expected to sit in the children’s 
room. 

“ Would it be impolite to look at the book he 
is reading? ” asked Tanis. 

“ Not if you do it carefully,” said Miss Burt 


34 POLLY’S SHOP 

after a minute. “ I should like to know my¬ 
self.” 

“ I will be careful,” said Tanis, and she went 
to the table where the old grandpa sat. 

The children and Miss Burt all watched. 
Tanis passed behind the old grandpa and looked 
over his shoulder. Then she leaned across the 
table and took a picture-book. She looked at 
it for several minutes. She came back to the 
desk. 

“ He is reading the life of Abraham Lincoln,” 
she whispered to Miss Burt. “ He is at the top 
of page 8.” 

“ There are plenty of lives of Lincoln,” said 
Morris. “ That is all right, then. He can 
come and read it if he wants to.” 

Morris went away from the desk, and the 
other children scattered to select their books. 
The old grandpa sat on, turning a page at long 
intervals. 


THE OLD GRANDPA 35 

At six, he made Miss Burt his little bow, and 
went away. On Monday afternoon he came 
again, took his book and sat down at the table, 
and the next day and the next. 

The children accepted him without further 
comment. They even found him useful. He 
helped Mary Shameklis pull on her too-small 
overshoes. He was quite willing to “ mind ” a 
loaf of bread for Nellie Skea, and he could be 
trusted as a parking-place for valuable toy 
automobiles. And Henry of Navarre, the li¬ 
brary cat, liked the old grandpa. He jumped 
on his knee the third time he came. 

When Henry did this, the old grandpa looked 
startled, but then he smiled, and stroked Hen¬ 
ry’s head. Henry began to purr and turned 
round and round, and settled down for a nap. 
The children and Miss Burt smiled. Henry 
did not often choose to get into anybody’s lap. 
Perhaps he knew that the old grandpa was much 


86 POLLY'S SHOP 

more likely to sit still than were the restless 
children. 

Very slowly the old grandpa read from page 
8 to page 45. And then, one day after he had 
gone, a shocking thing happened. 

Miss Burt saw the group of boys arguing by 
the door. Harry was its centre, and he looked 
red and angry. Morris was blocking the way 
out, and Tom and Isidor and Bene Avere trying 
to get hold of something which Harry held be¬ 
hind him. 

Miss Burt left the desk. “ What is the 
trouble?” she asked. “What is the matter 
with Harry? ” 

“ He has taken the old grandpa’s book,” said 
Morris and Tom together. “ Miss Canfield 
stamped it for him. She didn’t know it was 
that book. Harry is a pig to take it away.” 

Miss Burt looked at Harry. “ You didn’t 
know it was his book, did you? ” she asked. 


THE OLD GRANDPA 


37 


“ Yes, I did,” said Harry crossly. “ I don’t 
see why I can’t take it. He is gone, and the 
book was back on the shelf for anybody to 
take.” 

“ The old grandpa isn’t through with it,” 
burst out Morris. “ There is his book-mark at 
page 78. He will come to-morrow and the 
book won’t be here for him.” 

“ He can read another,” said Harry, still 
holding behind him the Life of Lincoln . 

“ So can you,” said Tom. 

“ I have a right to take it,” said Harry. 
“ Haven’t I, Miss Burt? ” 

Everybody within hearing had stopped read¬ 
ing to look at Miss Burt and the boys. 

“ You have the right,” said Miss Burt slowly, 
“ but I don’t believe, Harry, you really want 
to use that right, do you? ” 

Harry looked crosser than ever, but he also 
grew a little redder. 


38 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“ Some other life of Lincoln would do just 
as well for you, wouldn’t it? ” asked Miss Burt. 
“ I have a very interesting new one, with pic¬ 
tures, on the shelf of new books. You are al¬ 
ways careful, Harry, about having your hands 
clean. How about taking that new one and 
leaving this for the old grandpa to finish? ” 

“ All right,” said Harry gruffly. 

Miss Burt took the new life of Lincoln from 
the special shelf and changed it for the one 
Harry held. The boys all went away except 
Morris. He asked Miss Burt for a pencil and 
a piece of paper. Miss Burt put the book back 
on the shelf just where the old grandpa was ac¬ 
customed to find it. 

Morris wrote on his paper. He put it in the 
book-pocket of the Life of Lincoln. Then he 
went home. 

Tanis had been reading at a table. After 
Morris went away, she got up and looked at 


THE OLD GRANDPA 39 

the book. She brought it to the desk to show 
Miss Burt. 

Upon the paper Morris had written: NO- 
BODDY IS TO SNITCH THIS BOOK 
HOME TILL THE OLD GRANDPA 
GETS THROUGH. 

“ Shall I leave it? ” asked Tanis. 

Miss Burt looked at the paper for quite a 
long time without answering. 

Snitch ’ is not polite,” said Tanis, “ and 
‘ nobody ’ has only one d. Shall I change it? ” 

“ No,” said Miss Burt. “ We will leave it 
in the book, and just as Morris wrote it.” 

So the next afternoon when the old grandpa 
came, his book was on the shelf and Henry was 
waiting to get into his lap. 

There were 194 pages in the Life of Lincoln 
and it took the old grandpa almost a month to 
a day to read it. By that time, the children 
would have missed him had he not come. The 


40 POLLY’S SHOP 

chair he liked best was always left for him, for 
nobody thought of taking it any more than 
his book. 

He finished the Life of Lincoln at twenty 
minutes past four on the day before Memorial 
Day. He laid it on the table before him and 
took off his glasses with their rusty steel bows. 
He looked around at the children and smiled 
at those nearest. After a little, he put Henry 
gently on one of the window-seats. He took 
the book and went up to the library desk. 

“ I am very much obliged to you, ma’am,” 
he said to Miss Burt, with his stiff little bow. 
“ It has meant a lot to me to read that book.. 
And I like your cat and your children.” 

“Won’t you find another book to read?” 
asked Miss Burt. “ Henry and the children 
like to have you come.” 

“ I am going away,” said the old grandpa. 
“ I was only visitin’ my son here in Longfield. 


THE OLD GRANDPA 


41 

It was just that book I wanted to read. You 
see I once met Lincoln.” 

Quite a number of children were standing 
near the desk. Such a silence as fell upon 
them! Even Miss Burt gave a little gasp. 

You knew Lincoln? ” she exclaimed. 

“ Yes, ma’am,” said the old grandpa. “ He 
once shook my hand.” 

As he spoke, the old grandpa looked at the 
knotted, worn fingers of his right hand. He 
did not seem to notice the awed stillness of 
the room. 

Miss Burt rose. “Children!” she said, 
“ this gentleman, who has been our guest, knew 
President Lincoln! ” Then she turned to the 
old grandpa. “ Won’t you tell us about it? ” 
she asked. 

“ Why, yes, ma’am,” said the old grandpa, 
straightening his shoulders, “ though there 
isn’t much to tell. It was over sixty years ago. 


42 POLLY'S SHOP 

I was a boy of sixteen when I ran away and 
enlisted. I’m eighty now, ma’am. It was the 
worst year of the war, just after Gettysburg.” 

He stopped to look around the room. The 
children, sitting at the tables, or leaning against 
the shelves, were all looking at him and all were 
breathlessly still. Harry and Morris had crept 
to the door to see that no newcomer interrupted 
the story. 

“ President Lincoln came to camp to talk 
things over with the commandin’ generals. 
Headquarters was in an old farmhouse, and I 
was told off with the guard. ’Twas a cold night 
and they sent out for more wood. I took it in, 
and glad I was of the chance. The President 
was sittin’ in an ordinary camp chair, big and 
sort of sprawlin’, for he was a loose-constructed 
kind of man. I was so scart by the idee of seein’ 
him that I dropped some of the wood. He 
looked at me then and sort of smiled. 


THE OLD GRANDPA 


43 


And where do you come from, boy ? 9 
he asked. 

Illinois, Mr. President,’ says I. 

“ 4 So do I,’ says he, and then he holds out 
his hand. 4 Shake, Neighbor,’ says President 
Lincoln. 

44 And that’s how I came to shake hands with 
Lincoln,” ended the old grandpa. 

44 It is a wonderful thing to remember,” said 
Miss Burt softly. 

44 Yes, ma’am, so it is,” agreed the old 
grandpa. 44 And it was a fine thing to happen 
to a boy. Boys are harum-scarum animals, al¬ 
ways into mischief and up to all sorts of un¬ 
mannerly behavior. It made me stop and 
think, you know, — that I must keep my hand 
from bad deeds, because it once held Lincoln’s 
hand.” 

He stopped again to look thoughtfully at his 
gnarled fingers. 44 I’ve worked hard all my 



44 


POLLY’S SHOP 


years and never seemed to get much ahead, 
ma’am, but I’ve so lived that I wouldn’t be 
ashamed to give my hand again to Lincoln.” 

Miss Burt’s eyes looked a little misty. She 
glanced quickly at the children, quiet as mice, 
gazing with absorbed interest at the old grandpa 
who had known Lincoln. 

“ Would you do something for us that we 

shall consider a great honor? ” she asked. 

“ Would you be willing to shake hands with us 

all? I know it is a good deal to ask, but you 

see President Lincoln died before any of us 

were born. We never before met anv one who 

%/ 

saw him alive. And to-morrow will be Memo¬ 
rial Day.” 

“ Indeed, ma’am, I’ll be pleased and proud 
to do so,” said the old grandpa earnestly, and 
he threw back his head, and straightened his 
shoulders as a good soldier should. 

Miss Burt took his hand first, and then he 


THE OLD GRANDPA 45 

stood by the desk and shook hands with all the 
children, as, one by one, they filed gravely past. 
Miss Burt stood watching them: among them, 
Morris from Russia; Tanis from Greece; Rene 
from France; Katie from Ireland; Jessie from 
Scotland, together with Polly Winsor and 
Carola Thorne, whose very-great-grandfathers 
helped settle New England in the days of the 
Pilgrims and Puritans. 

Yet they were all loyal Americans, and all 
were equally thrilled by the honor of touching 
the hand of the old grandpa who had once held 
the hand of President Lincoln. 


CHAPTER FOUR 


Tells How Polly Went to Ponagansett 

W HEN Uncle Jack came back very late 
on Sunday evening, Polly was in bed, 
and she did not hear much about the fish-house 
Cousin May had rented, except that Uncle Jack 
thought it would “ do,” and that he liked Pona¬ 
gansett, and, if the bookshop lasted through 
the summer, he thought he would like to spend 
his vacation there. Perhaps he told his mother 
rather more the night before, but when Polly 
saw him on Monday morning, he was hurrying 
through his breakfast in order to catch the early 
train for the city. She did learn that the meas¬ 
urements for the bookcases were not so far 
wrong that he could not make the shelves fit, 

46 


PON AG AN SETT 


47 


and that they were all in place, ready for the 
girls to stain. 

Not to have Mother coming home at night 
was really dreadful. Neither did Polly like 
Mother’s empty bed across her room, even 
though she knew that Grandma’s door was 
wide open, and that she would hear if Polly 
spoke. The days of the first week were twice 
as long as usual, and Mother was too busy to 
write often, but the second week seemed shorter, 
and the third was happiest of all. 

Of course Polly told her friend Carola 
Thorne about the bookshop. Carola thought 
it the nicest plan that could happen to any 
little girl, and wished she were in Polly’s place. 

“ Do you think your Cousin May will really 
let you sell books? ” she wanted to know. 

Polly was not at all sure that she wanted to 
sell any books, but she did not say this to Carola. 

Then came the last day of school. Reports 


48 POLLY’S SHOP 

were given out and the list of promotions read. 
Polly and Carola both heard their names among 
those who were to go on to the next grade. 
They were proud to be promoted, even though 
it did mean that next fall they would stay in 
school half an hour longer each day, because 
they were growing older. Since Mother was 
not at home, Polly took her report to Grandma. 

“ It is a very good report,” said Grandma 
when she had read it. “ And the best things 
on it are the high marks for effort and for good 
behavior.” 

“ Well, I try to be good,” sighed Polly, “ but 
it isn’t as easy for me as for grown-up people.” 

“ It isn’t easy for them,” said Grandma 
gently. “ It never gets very easy for anybody, 
no matter how old he is. That is why I am 
glad to see your good marks for trying.” 

School closed on Thursday, and on Friday, 
Grandma and Polly packed a big suitcase. 


PON AG AN SETT 


49 


There was room for the clothes belonging to 
Fair Rosamond, the dearest doll, and for two 
or three games. Fair Rosamond herself 
would travel with Uncle Jack and Polly. 

Grandma packed a nice luncheon for them to 
eat on the way. She also sent a big tin box of 
cookies, which would keep for some time, and 
several jars of jam and jelly, which would be 
good on their breakfast toast. Mother had 
written that they would get only breakfasts at 
the bookshop. 

Grandma woke Polly at five on Saturday 
morning, for Uncle Jack wanted to make an 
early start. Breakfast was hurried and odd, 
and Polly wasn’t hungry. While she did choke 
down her cereal and glass of milk and eat 
her toast, she just could not swallow the egg 
Grandma wanted her to eat. So Uncle Jack 
ate it as well as his own. 

Not until they were about to start did Polly 


50 POLLY’S SHOP 

realize that she was leaving Grandma with only 
Mittens for family. Kerry was going with 
them to be company for Uncle Jack on the 
drive home. 

“ I wish you were going, Grandma,” she said, 
wistfully. 

“ I wish I were, dearie,” replied Grandma, 
“ but I think you will see me when Uncle Jack 
has his vacation. Now, be a good girl, and 
help Mother and May all you can.” 

Grandma buttoned Polly’s coat and kissed 
her again. “ Tell Mother you have been a com¬ 
fort all these weeks,” she added. “ I don’t 
know what I shall do without you. Now, Jack, 
drive carefully. Remember your mother loves 
you, and that Polly is precious to us all.” 

“ I’ll remember,” said Uncle Jack as he kissed 
her. “Jump in, Kerry. All comfy, Polly? 
Then, 4 Ho, for the open road! ’ ” 

Polly felt rather choky as she waved to dear 


PON AG AN SETT 


51 


Grandma, standing in the open door of Three 
Gates, with the sunlight shining on her white 
hair and on her fresh gingham dress. The iris 
was in bloom, and some of the early roses, and 
Polly thought what a lovely little home she was 
leaving. When she saw it again, the garden 
would be gay with the asters and marigolds she 
liked so much. 

Part of the way was familiar to Polly, for 
they followed roads that led to Silver Sands, 
but soon they headed north and, after a time, 
went through a big city, with a great deal of 
traffic, even though it was yet early. On the 
other side of the city, Uncle Jack turned upon 
a much-traveled highway. It went swooping 
up hills and down again like a wide ribbon laid 
over their summits. This was called the New- 
buryport Turnpike. Turnpike was an old 
name for a road. 

The turnpike name ended in a pretty little 


52 POLLY’S SHOP 

town, but the way went north just the same, 
only now it was called the Lafayette Road. 

Polly knew about Lafayette, and how he 
came to the colonies in the days when the United 
States was only a struggling and weak group 
of widely separated settlements, trying to ob¬ 
tain freedom. She was interested when Uncle 
Jack told her that others of the great motor 
highways were named for famous men. They 
drove along happily, with Kerry between them 
on the front seat, and Fair Rosamond in Polly’s 
lap, wearing the rose-colored dress in which she 
had come back to her mother, after her mysteri- 
ous visit the previous fall. Uncle Jack did not 
drive so rapidly as when he was alone, and he 
was careful not to jounce Polly. 

They found a good deal to talk about because 
the country was lovely under the June sun, 
and the grass grew green and the little villages 
looked contented, and everywhere were gardens 


PON AG AN SETT 


53 


and flowers. It seemed as though the people 
in almost every house cared to take the time to 
plant flowers. 

After a time, Polly grew quiet, and her 
young uncle looked at her. 

“ Sleepy or hungry? ” he asked. 

“ I could eat that egg now,” said Polly. 

“ Eggs are not eaten twice,” said Uncle Jack. 
“You lost out on that one. Can you reach that 
small box back there on the other seat? ” 

Polly could reach it, and when she opened 
it, found four brown-bread sandwiches with 
cream-cheese filling. They were not large, and 
Uncle Jack wanted only one, so Polly ate the 
other three. 

All the while they were flying north along 
the Lafayette Road, and after a time, passed 
through a quaint city by the sea, which Uncle 
Jack said was Portsmouth, and started on still 
another highway. As soon as they were out in 


54 POLLY’S SHOP 

the country, Uncle Jack said it was time for 
lunch. 

To find a pleasant place to eat was not easy. 
So many thoughtless, selfish people had gone 
into the lovely pine groves and littered them 
with papers and rubbish, that the owners had 
fenced them off with wire, or put up signs say¬ 
ing that motorists could not picnic on their land. 
Polly thought it a shame that people could not 
stop for lunch and leave the place so others could 
enjoy it also. “ Tin-can hogs,” Uncle Jack 
called them, impolitely. 

After looking some time, they came to a place 
that was pretty, that wasn’t posted against pic¬ 
nicking, and that wasn’t spoiled by papers and 
cans. Uncle Jack drove Justin off the road, 
and he and Polly stopped for lunch. 

Such a good luncheon Grandma had packed! 
Buttered muffins, two little round paper boxes 
of vegetable salad, with Hoodsie wooden spoons 


PON AG AN SETT 55 

to eat it, cold lamb sliced very thin, — and this 
they held with their fingers, — an orange apiece, 
ready peeled, and gingerbread cakes that had 
bits of lemon peel. There were two thermos 
bottles with milk for Polly and coffee for Uncle 
Jack. They enjoyed every mouthful, and after 
they finished, they picked up every speck of 
paper and put it into the pasteboard box. Just 
as they were taking a last look to see if any 
scraps had escaped them, a man stuck his head 
over the hedge. 

He gave a grunt and then smiled. In his 
hand was a wooden sign. “ Picnicking For¬ 
bidden by Owner,” it read. 

“ We aren’t that kind,” said Uncle Jack 
promptly. 

“ So I see,” said the man. “ Stay as long 
as you like. I wish everybody who stopped was 
your type.” 

He nailed the sign in place and then turned 




56 


POLLY’S SHOP 


to Polly. “ There are wild strawberries down 
over the slope,” he said pleasantly. “ Go pick 
some if you wish.” 

“ Oh, thank you,” said Polly, glowing all 
over. “ Shall I have time? ” she asked her 
uncle. 

“ I’ll wait,” said Uncle Jack. Polly and 
Kerry ran off in the direction indicated, and 
when she looked around, the man who brought 
the sign was sitting down by her uncle, and 
both were lighting cigarettes. 

The berries grew thick, and Polly soon filled 
the cap to the thermos bottle. Best of all, she 
found some that grew on stems so long that she 
could pick them like flowers. She made as big 
a bouquet as her hand could grasp. These she 
would take to Mother. She and Uncle Jack 
would eat those in the cup. 

When Polly came back, the man had gone 
and Uncle Jack was in a hurry to start. He ate 


PON AG AN SETT 57 

only a few berries, and said he would save the 
rest till later. 

Polly was rested and ready to drive farther. 
Now there was much more traffic on the road, 
which was built in three sections. Those at the 
edges were for cars going in either direction. 
The middle one was to be used only for passing. 

They were about half an hour on their way 
when Polly suddenly screamed. She fright¬ 
ened Kerry, and Uncle Jack, and through him, 
Justin, who gave a wild sort of leap. 

“ Good gracious, child, what is the matter? ” 
asked her uncle, slowing up, and indeed, he was 
obliged to do so, for Polly was clutching his 
arm, and the tears were running down her 
cheeks. 

“ Fair Rosamond! ” she gasped. “ Oh, Un¬ 
cle Jack, she isn’t here, she isn’t here! We must 
have left her under that tree where we ate our 
lunch.” 


58 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“ We can’t have,” said Uncle Jack. 

“ But she isn’t here! ” wailed Polly. 

Pair Rosamond was not in the car, and Jack, 
who had himself packed the luncheon things 
while waiting for Polly to finish with her straw¬ 
berries, did not remember seeing her. He 
looked at his mileage and muttered something. 
Polly caught only the last word, which was 
“ doll.” 

“ Don’t call her that! ” she protested. “ It 
hurts her feelings. Oh, Uncle Jack, you will 
go back, won’t you? ” 

Her uncle gave a sigh, muttered something 
else, which it was as well that Polly didn’t hear, 
and turned Justin to go back over some fifteen 
miles of crowded road. He was very fond of 
his fatherless little niece, and he remembered 
Polly’s grief when Kerry had stolen her treas¬ 
ured child last September. 

“ Oh, do you think she will be there? ” begged 


PON AG AN SETT 


59 


Polly. “ Somebody else may have stopped to 
eat and have taken her. They would take her 
of course, for she is so dear, and she — is — all 
— alone! ” 

“ I think she will be there,” said her uncle 
patiently. “ You know the man who owned the 
pine grove put up a sign while we were resting. 
That may keep people from stopping. But 
thirty miles — that — that — doll! Polly,” 
he ended energetically, “ when you get her 
again, you hold on to her. There’ll be no go¬ 
ing back a second time.” 

“You would go back if you’d forgotten 
Kerry,” said Polly reproachfully. 

“Yes, I would,” Jack agreed more gently, 
and he even smiled at Polly. 

It took longer to drive back to their luncheon 
place because of the traffic, but they arrived at 
last. Polly started to get out. 

“No, I don’t want you to cross this road,” 






60 POLLY’S SHOP 

said Uncle Jack. “ Sit tight. Down, Kerry, 
you stay with her.” 

Polly watched anxiously as he waited his 
chance to cross the three lanes of cars, but he 
finally managed it, climbed the fence and dis¬ 
appeared into the grove just where the new sign 
told people to keep out. Would he find Fair 
Rosamond ? 

The next moment her heart gave a bound. 
Uncle Jack appeared, carrying Fair Rosa¬ 
mond, rather impatiently, because he held her 
head downward, without thought for her com¬ 
fort. There she was, and quite unharmed, per¬ 
haps due to the chance that caused the owner of 
the property to choose that especial day and 
hour to post his sign. 

Polly hugged her, and wanted to hug Uncle 
Jack, but she couldn’t very well, because he was 
busy with his car. But she thanked him, and 
rubbed her head against his shoulder. 


PON AG AN SETT 


61 


“ All’s well that ends well,” he said, smiling 
down at her. “ We’ll be a little later getting to 
Ponagansett and use a little more gas, but what 
is that compared to the feelings of a mother? ” 

They had no more adventures. Because of 
the delay, they did not take the shore road but 
stuck to the great artery which went farther in¬ 
land, and so caught only glimpses of the ocean. 
Beyond Portland, traffic was less and the little 
car traveled faster. Polly was growing very 
tired when they came to a small stone church 
on a high cliff. 

“ This is the Ponagansett church,” said her 
uncle. “ We are almost there.” 

Such a pretty road as they turned into, wind¬ 
ing through hedges of wild roses all in bloom, 
and mixed with bayberry and sweet fern, and 
blackberry tangles, and showing a glimmer of 
blue at its end which grew nearer. They passed 
several hotels, and then came a few houses, and 


62 POLLYS SHOP 

Uncie Jack turned down a lane and the sea 
smelled very near. 

Rocks came into sight, reddish granite rocks, 
and seagulls soared in the air. Polly saw a 
cluster of weather-worn silver-gray buildings, 
raised on high posts, and beyond, the ocean. 
Among these buildings was one much smaller 
than the rest, standing where the lane ended 
entirely and became part of the pebble beach. 
And on its steps stood Polly’s pretty, young 
mother! 


CHAPTER FIVE 


Tells About the Bookshop 


A BOVE the door of the little fish-house, 
_ — and a fish-house, you know, is a build¬ 
ing where fishermen once kept their oars and 
lobster traps and nets, — above the door hung 
the sign Mrs. Winsor had drawn and painted. 
Polly had seen it at all stages, but now that it 
was in place, she liked it better than ever. It 
was an oblong sign, hanging from an iron frame, 
and on both sides of it sat a little girl in an 
orange dress, so interested in her book that you 
perfectly longed to peep over her shoulder and 
see what she was reading. Below the figure 
were the words: “ Polly’s Shop.” 

The background of the sign was a lovely dull 

63 



64 POLLY’S SHOP 

blue that toned in with the blue of the sky and 
the silver gray of the rough shingles and boards 
of the group of fish-houses. At the windows 
were orange curtains and boxes full of yellow 
marigolds, and near the little porch, a tall clump 
of larkspur, all a radiance of blue, completed 
the color scheme. 

When Polly could let go of Mother, she went 
eagerly into the tiny building. It sat up on 
posts, and the weathered gray floor boards had 
such wide cracks between that one could see the 
sand beneath the house. The entrance was di¬ 
rectly into a room about twenty feet square, 
with a stone fireplace facing the door. There 
was no wall-paper, no plaster, only the gray of 
the boarded walls, and the book-cases, stained 
soft blue. At times, the fish-house had been 
used as a studio, so that there were high win¬ 
dows such as artists like. Below these win¬ 
dows were draped old fish-nets, with hollow 


THE BOOKSHOP 65 

balls of rough glass that once floated their 
edges, and lobster buoys, all softened by sea 
and air and sunshine to lovely subdued colors. 
Polly noticed these things at once, but many 
days passed before she was sure she had seen 
everything in that room. 

As a bookshop, it was quite unlike the big 
city one where Polly went to choose her birthday 
books. Cousin May’s shop had not nearly so 
many books, though most of the shelves were 
filled, and a table held the large picture-books. 
There was a couch with an Indian blanket 
thrown over it, and at one side, a desk. Be¬ 
hind the couch, a thick dull-blue curtain ex¬ 
tended far into the room, screening off a part 
of it. 

Polly peeped behind the screen and her eyes 
grew big with surprise, for the curtain hid the 
wee-est little kitchen ever seen. It wasn’t even 
a kitchenette, it was so small. Uncle Jack said 


66 


POLLYS SHOP 


it hadn’t grown beyond being a “ kitch.” It 
held a tiny sink about eighteen inches long, 
with one faucet which ran cold water, and 
above the sink were two shelves. 

Six gay blue-and-orange pottery plates stood 
on the top shelf, with four blue bowls, four 
tumblers of orange glass, and two pitchers of 
blue-and-orange, one small, one larger. The 
second shelf held an electric toaster, a coffee 
percolater, and three tin cans, painted blue. 

At one side of the sink was a towel-rack with 
two blue-and-white dish towels, and below it a 
two-plate electric stove. Under the sink hung 
a small frying-pan. 

On the other side of the sink stood the smallest 
refrigerator in the world. It was not so large 
as Grandma’s cake-box at Three Gates. Be¬ 
yond, hung a broom and a dustpan and brush. 

Beyond this wee “ kitch,” Polly saw a door. 
She and Mother went through into a narrow 


THE BOOKSHOP 67 

passage, with a shallow clothes closet on one 
side, and on the other side, a small lavatory. 
Beyond the passage lay a bedroom with a big 
double bed, two chairs, and a dressing-table 
made out of a crate with orange cheese-cloth 
nailed over it. At the three windows, which 
were the nice kind that open inward like doors, 
hung more of the orange curtains. 

“ This is our room, Polly,” said Mother. 
“ Cousin May sleeps on the couch in the book¬ 
shop.” 

At thought of really sleeping with Mother, 
not merely watching on Saturday and especially 
on Sunday morning, to see when she waked 
and then hurrying across the room for a cuddle, 
but being where she could touch her at any mo¬ 
ment of the night, Polly’s eyes shone. 

“ This big bed was here,” Mother explained, 
“ and the man who rented Cousin May the fish- 
house was not pleasant about making many 


68 


POLLY’S SHOP 


changes. So we will try it, but if we are not 
comfortable, we will tell him that he must take 
it out and put in two cots. Only the room is 
not very large for two beds.” 

This was true, especially as extra books were 
piled in one corner, and there was no other place 
for wrapping-paper and other supplies. Ev¬ 
erything which could not go in the bookroom 
had to find a place in Mrs. Winsor’s bedroom. 
It was not untidy, because things were in order, 
but it was crowded and rather cluttered. 

Polly liked everything. Perhaps she would 
not wish to live in two rooms all the time, but 
it seemed delightful just for a summer. And, 
of course, one had all outdoors to live in. 
Through the open windows she could hear surf 
breaking on rocks. 

Cousin May, who had been in the village do¬ 
ing errands, came just then with a welcome for 
Polly. Both she and Mother were anxious to 


THE BOOKSHOP 


69 


talk with Uncle Jack about various tilings they 
needed to have done. 

“ Run out and look around, Polly,” said 
Mother, “ if you are not too tired, but don’t go 
far away.” 

“ Is it almost supper time? ” asked Polly. 

“ Why, are you hungry, dear? ” Mother 
asked at once. 

“ Not very. Only you said not to go far.” 

Mother opened Grandma’s tin of raisin cook¬ 
ies, and gave Polly two. She also gave her a 
nut caramel from the box Uncle Jack had 
brought. 

“It is only three,” she said. “ We don’t 
have supper till six.” 

“ But it was three o’clock before we got here 
at all,” said the surprised Polly. “ Uncle Jack 
looked at his watch.” 

“ Oh, darling, they don’t have daylight time 
in Ponagansett as we do in Massachusetts,” 


70 POLLY’S SHOP 

laughed Mother. “ You have gained a whole 
hour coming up here.” 

Polly went out with her cookies to consider 
her extra hour, which Mother said she would 
lose again when she went back to Longfield. 
Though she understood what happened that 
last Sunday in April when Grandma set all the 
house clocks ahead, it seemed mixing to change 
back in June. If it meant that she would have 
to go to bed sooner after supper, she did not 
think she liked it. 

Directly in front of the bookshop a little tidal 
river came in from the larger cove, and on its 
bank lay a boat. A bent old man in high rub¬ 
ber boots was walking across to the boat. 

Polly followed the river edge until she came 
out on the rocks overlooking the ocean, all blue 
and glimmering under the afternoon sun. The 
rocks were rounded and not hard to walk on if 
one had rubber-soled Trot-Mocs, as did Polly. 


THE BOOKSHOP 71 

She was so interested in the sea and in several 
pretty white-sailed boats that she almost fell 
over a lady who sat industriously painting a 
picture. Polly saw her just in time, and, thanks 
to the Trot-Mocs, the lady never saw Polly. 
She backed rapidly to a safe distance before 
stopping to look at the painting. It was Polly’s 
first experience with a summer artist, though 
she soon learned that she was liable to find one 
around any corner and in any place. At Pona- 
gansett they were almost as thick as pebbles. 
Four others were in sight that very minute, 
had Polly known where to look. But she 
merely thought she liked the pictures Mother 
painted better than that! Polly looked at the 
lady’s canvas and then at the real sky. She 
thought the sky far prettier. 

Giving the artist a wide berth, she went down 
over the rocks to where the waves were break¬ 
ing some distance below her. The tide had 


72 POLLY 3 S SHOP 

come in with a strong wind to help it and the 
surf was flying high. 'No wonder the painters 
were out. 

Away to the left, Polly could see a stretch of 
sandy beach, which was the other part of Pona- 
gansett, the part she had seen before. To the 
right lay a headland where the roofs of houses 
showed above treetops. Along the cliff there 
seemed a path. Behind Polly was a marsh 
around which curved the rough little road on 
which Justin had finished his journey. Other 
old buildings stood along this curve which Polly 
had hardly noticed in passing, but she could 
now see that they were shops of various kinds. 
From a distance they looked interesting, and 
Polly wondered whether any little girls were 
helping in them. 


CHAPTER SIX 


Tells How Polly Met Marcia 

W HEN they went to supper, and they 
went as early as they could hope to get 
any, because Uncle Jack said he was hungry 
enough to eat tin cans, they went by the houses 
with the gift-shops. Polly wanted to linger, 
but Mother took her hand. 

“ You will be here all summer, Polly, and 
there will be plenty of time to look at every 
shop.” 

But Uncle Jack stopped when they came to 
a tea-house with a border of pink and lavender 
candytuft a foot wide and many feet long, all 
across the edge of the lawn. 

“ Yes,” said his sister, “ every time I go 


73 


74 POLLY’S SHOP 

by this, I wish Mother could see it. But it 
will be gone by the time she comes.” 

They did not go to a tea-house nor a hotel, 
but to one of the old houses with a big screened 
porch around two sides. Tables were placed 
along this porch and this was where Mother 
and Cousin May had arranged to have meals. 

Polly felt important to think that she was 
to live in this way. “ I feel like a princess,” 
she said. 

“ And why? ” asked Cousin May, smiling at 
her. 

“ Because I didn’t set this table, and probably 
I am not going to help do the dishes,” said 
Polly. “ Am I, Mother?” 

“ No, lamb,” said Mrs. Winsor. “ The only 
dishes we shall have to wash this summer will 
be those used for breakfast.” 

“ And they are so pretty that it will be fun 
to wash them,” said Polly contentedly. 


HOW POLLY MET MARCIA 75 

After supper, Mother wanted Polly to go to 
bed. “ You have had a long ride,” she said, 
“and all the excitement of getting here. Look! 
Fair Rosamond is already asleep.” 

“ She will wake if I sit her up,” said Polly, 
but she let Mother tuck her into bed. Hers 
was to be the far side of the big bed, and Fair 
Rosamond was to lie between — for one night 
only. To-morrow, some sort of bed must be 
planned for her. Mother said that three in a 
bed was one too many. 

The bookshop was not really open for busi¬ 
ness, but after she was in bed, Polly heard some 
people come in, and Cousin May came for the 
blue paper and orange raffia with which all the 
books that went out from “ Polly’s Shop ” were 
to be wrapped and tied. 

“ Yes, two books,” she said in answer to 
Polly’s whisper. “ Two books and they are 
going to send some friends.” 



76 


POLLY’S SHOP 


Polly thought sleepily that this was nice for 
Cousin May, but she didn’t know whether she 
liked to have strangers coming into what was 
to be their home for the summer. Of course, 
if they were pleasant strangers, she would not 
mind, but grown-up people had such a trying 
way of asking Fair Rosamond’s name, and 
whether Polly went to school, and other ques¬ 
tions that Polly thought silly, and yet Mother 
and Grandma expected her to be polite to 
everybody. 

Outside the latticed window the dusk grew 
blue and purple, and stars came out in a vel¬ 
vety-looking sky. Sometimes people passed 
the house, but for the most part there was only 
the rattle of an occasional pebble and the sound 
of surf on the shore. Polly went to sleep, and 
slept so soundly, in spite of a strange bed, that 
she only faintly knew when Mother slipped in 
beside her, and did not know at all when Mother 


HOW POLLY MET MARCIA 77 

got up. She opened her eyes when Uncle Jack 
peeped around the edge of the door. 

Then she sat up, for it was broad daylight 
and Uncle Jack held in one hand a large red 
boiled lobster. 

“ Folly’ll help me eat it,” he was saying. 
“ Polly doesn’t care whether it is a proper thing 
to eat for breakfast.” 

“ Polly is not going to eat it,” said the voice 
of Polly’s mother. “ Carry it out of the house 
somewhere on the rocks and take it out of the 
shell, and then you may eat all you wish. But 
let me go in to my child.” 

Polly laughed at Uncle Jack’s queer choice 
for breakfast. She laughed still more over 
having a bath in a hand-basin, for that was all 
the place afforded, but Mother said they could 
supplement it with the whole Atlantic ocean. 

When she was dressed, she found the table 
set for breakfast in front of the fireplace, a 


78 


POLLY’S SHOP 


folding table, just right for four. The coffee 
was perking merrily, and there was milk for 
Polly, and butter and cream and fruit from the 
wee refrigerator. Toast and cereal and 
Grandma’s good blackberry jam made a fine 
breakfast. Uncle Jack came back with his 
lobster, which he had bought from the old fish¬ 
erman whom Polly saw the night before. His 
name was Captain Hallam. 

After breakfast, Polly was allowed to wash 
the pretty dishes all alone, because Mother and 
Cousin May and Uncle Jack were busy about 
the shop. Of course it was Sunday, and 
Grandma would not have liked their doing this 
instead of going to church, but it was the only 
day that Uncle Jack could help them. 

Polly liked to wash and wipe the pretty 
dishes. She was careful in handling them so 
as not to chip the edges, and she thought it fun 
to arrange them on the shelves and put the sil- 


HOW POLLY MET MARCIA 79 

ver spoons in one of the desk drawers, and wash 
neatly the towel she had used to dry them. 

Then she tried hard to make the bed in her 
room, but it was so big and so broad and so high 
that she had to give it up. Cousin May was 
obliged to make up her couch and have the 
room very clean and tidy before anybody 
started to get breakfast. Mother came just 
as Polly had decided that she could not do 
the bed alone. 

“You poor lamb!” exclaimed Mother. 

¥ 

“ You need not think you must do all the house¬ 
work. It is just because May and I want so 
much to get certain things done while Jack is 
here to help.” 

“ I wanted to surprise you,” said Polly, “ but 
I couldn’t get the covers up without crawling on 
the top of the bed, and then it wasn’t smooth. 
Oh, Mother, do you think we may go bathing 
to-day? ” 


80 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“ I think so,” said Mother. “ About the mid¬ 
dle of the morning Uncle Jack will drive us to 
the beach. We can’t go there every day, be¬ 
cause we can’t leave the shop and it is far to 
walk, but there are nice pools here in the rocks 
where we can take a dip by ourselves, and at 
low tide it is safe to go out in the little bay, if 
you can swim.” 

Polly waited eagerly till Mother said she 
might put on her bathing suit. It was new last 
year, and though at that time Cousin May had 
not even thought of having her shop, Polly was 
delighted because the swimming suit was orange 
in color, with a blue stripe. It seemed as 
though it matched purposely. 

The older three dressed for bathing, and 
Justin quickly took them through the street of 
village shops and hotels to a wonderful beach. 
As Polly remembered, the sands seemed dif¬ 
ferent colors and the sea was blue and beautiful. 


HOW POLLY MET MARCIA 81 

There were a great many people on the beach 
this pleasant Sunday, and so many cars parked 
near the pavilion that two policemen were kept 
busy telling the drivers where to go. 

Uncle Jack found a place for Justin, and 
they all went down to the water. Polly stopped 
to paddle on the edge, because she was only just 
learning to swim, and she liked to play in the 
sand before getting wet. Mother stayed with 
her. Cousin May and Uncle Jack dived 
through the breakers and swam far out. 

“ You go, too, Mother,” said Polly, when 
she realized that her mother was staying just 
for her, She knew that Mother liked to swim 
and dive in the waves. 

“ Won’t you be lonely? ” Mother asked. 

“ No,” said Polly. “ It is nice here, only 
don’t be away too long.” 

Mrs. Winsor went, because she longed to be 
playing in the rollers with her brother and 


82 POLLYS SHOP 

cousin, and because Polly seemed safe and 
happy digging sand. 

After she had gone beyond the line of break¬ 
ers and was swimming in calmer and deeper 
water, Polly stopped watching Mother and sat 
down on the sand. A little girl came up to her. 

“ See my water-horse,” she remarked. 

Polly looked up at a large red rubber toy, 
shaped like a horse’s head and body. She gazed 
at it gravely. 

“ I sit on it in the water,” explained the little 
girl. “ When the sea is smooth I can move 
along on it. But to-day the waves tip me off.” 

“ It must be fun,” said Polly shyly. 

“ It is. My name is Marcia. What is 
yours? ” 

“ Polly — that is, Pauline,” she added. 

“ I shall call you Polly,” said the little girl 
with a funny determination; as she spoke, 
plumping herself down beside Polly. “ Where 





HOW POLLY MET MARCIA 83 


do you live in Ponagansett ? ” she asked. “ Our 
house is over on the cliff.” 

“ Down in the cove,” replied Polly. “ It was 
a fish-house. Cousin May has made it into a 
shop.” 

“ What kind of shop? ” asked Marcia. 

“ A bookshop,” Polly replied. 

“ Not the one called 4 Polly’s Shop ’? ” 

Polly nodded. She did not look at Marcia. 

“My! aren’t you lucky!” exclaimed Mar¬ 
cia. “To stay in a bookshop! May you read 
the books? ” 

“ Yes,” said Polly, finding her tongue. “ I 
am to read all the books I like. Mother is 
helping Cousin May with the shop and I am 
with Mother.” 

“ But is it your name? ” asked the puzzled 
Marcia. 

“ It is the name of the little girl on the sign,” 
said Polly, giving for the first time the explana- 


84 


POLLY’S SHOP 


tion she was to give many times before summer 
was over. How she came to dislike that ques¬ 
tion! 

Marcia seemed satisfied. “ I like to read 
better than anything else,” she said. “ We are 
coming when the shop is open. Mother said 
so.” 

“ It will be open to-morrow morning,” said 
Polly. 

“ Then we will come to-morrow morning,” 
said Marcia, who appeared quite sure that what 
she wished would happen. “ I want to see the 
books and to see you. Would you like to try 
my water-horse? ” 

Polly looked at the rough sea. “ No, thank 
you,” she said politely. “ Some time when it 
is smoother, I think it would be fun.” 

“ Aren’t you going into the water at all? ” 
asked Marcia. 

“ I don’t like to go alone,” confessed Polly. 


HOW POLLY MET MARCIA 85 


“ Not unless there isn’t any tide. I am wait¬ 
ing for Mother to come ashore.” 

“ I’ll go with you,” said Marcia, rising to her 
feet and reaching for Polly’s hand. “ I have 
been out once up to my neck, and I’ll go again 
with you.” 

Hand in hand, Polly and Marcia walked into 
the sea, and when Mrs. Winsor came ashore, 
both were chattering as though they had known 
each other several weeks instead of several 
minutes. 


CHAPTER SEVEN 


Tells About Marcia and Bill 
FTER dinner that Sunday — such a 



jl\- good country dinner — Uncle Jack 
started for home. Lucky that he had Kerry 
for company on that long drive! 

In the excitement of dinner on the screened 
porch and seeing Uncle Jack off, Polly forgot 
to speak of what Marcia said about coming to 
the bookshop. 

On Monday morning, the first on which the 
shop was really open for business, Polly was 
helping Mother with that awkward old bed, 
when they heard a car crunching down the peb¬ 
ble road and stopping before the door. Polly 
peeped from the bedroom window to see a big 


86 



ABOUT MARCIA AND BILL 87 


Packard, with a chauffeur in livery opening 
the door for three people to get out. One was 
a pleasant-looking plump lady in a pretty silk 
dress, the second was a boy about seven, who 
wore a bathing suit, a tall pair of rubber boots 
and a white cloth baseball cap, advertising 
Pillsbury’s Flour. The third was Marcia, and 
she was dressed in a sleeveless undervest and a 
pair of bright-patterned cretonne trousers. 
Her legs and feet were bare. 

Polly herself wore no stockings, only sneak¬ 
ers, but she had on a fresh gingham dress with 
bloomers to match. Marcia’s gay trousers 
covered with huge red roses rather astonished 
her. 

It was yet so early that Cousin May had not 
expected customers. After setting the book¬ 
shop in dainty order and placing on the desk a 
glass bowl full of purple beach peas, she had 
gone to the village to buy a new ribbon for her 


88 POLLY’S SHOP 

typewriter. Mother promised to attend to any 
one wishing to buy books. 

When the lady and the two children came into 
the shop, Mother went out at once. Polly 
followed as far as the “ kitch ” to peep around 
the edge of the sheltering curtain. In spite of 
enjoying Marcia on the beach, she felt shy 
about seeing her with her mother. 

The next moment everybody had a surprise. 
Mrs. Winsor came to meet the strangers. She 
stopped short and so did the lady. There was 
an instant of puzzled silence and then one ex¬ 
claimed, “Why, Edith Clifford!” and the 
other, “ Why, Peggy Purcell! ” and they kissed 
each other. 

It was plain that they were old college 
friends, and when they had explained that both 
were married, and that Edith was now Edith 
Winsor, and Peggy was Mrs. Murray, they 
turned to the children. 


ABOUT MARCIA AND BILL 89 


“ And so it was your Polly with whom Mar¬ 
cia fell in love yesterday! ” exclaimed Mrs. 
Murray. “ Where is she? These are my two, 
Marcia, and Bill, Junior. Don’t mind their 
clothes; they own some respectable ones, but 
on Monday mornings I always let them wear 
just what they like.” 

“You would, Peggy! ” laughed Mrs. Win- 
sor, smiling at Bill, and holding out her hand 
to Marcia, who made a curtsy that was very 
funny, considering her trousers. 

“ Of course I would! ” agreed Mrs. Murray. 
“ I know that dressed-up stiff and starched 
Sunday feeling. Freedom on Monday morn¬ 
ings, even though it means a dreadful Pillsbury 
Flour cap. But, Edith, what luck! Marcia 
could talk of nothing but the little girl she met 
on the beach, so I came to see her, hoping she 
would prove a possible playmate. And to find 
her mother is Edith Clifford! Where is your 


90 POLLY’S SHOP 

child ? Don’t say she has been naughty and put 
to bed! Marcia won’t let me out of here with¬ 
out seeing her.” 

Mother called Polly, who came slowly around 
the curtain. Mrs. Murray received her with 
a hug and kiss. 

“ I was fond of your mother when we were 
girls together,” she said. “ Now, I hope you 
and Marcia will have fun all summer.” 

Mrs. Winsor and Mrs. Murray sat down side 
by side on Cousin May’s couch, and began to 
talk earnestly. Years had passed since they 
last met, and there was much to say. Marcia 
literally fell upon Polly. 

“ It’s all right, and I can have you for my 
friend! I told Mother you were just as much 
nice people as we are, and she would like you 
even if she hadn’t known your mother. I’m 
nine. How old are you? ” 

“ Eight last March,” said Polly. 


ABOUT MARCIA AND BILL 91 


“ Bill’s seven,” Marcia went on. “ You’re 
the between. Now, show me some books. I 
am to have one and so is Bill.” 

Polly ran to one of the tables. If this were 
selling books — oh, she liked it! 

“ This is a good one,” she began. “ I read 
it last winter. And so is this — and this.” 

44 I have read them all,” said Marcia after a 
swift glance. “ Aren’t there any new ones, 
just printed? ” 

“ These,” said Polly, doubtfully, 44 but I 
haven’t read them yet.” 

44 Well, I want one I haven’t read,” Marcia 
announced cheerfully. 44 Here, Bill, this is 
what you’ve been looking for.” 

Bill snatched the book from his sister, a Life 
of Lindbergh, told mostly in pictures. He sat 
down to examine it, but, finding his high rub¬ 
ber boots too hot, suddenly arose and removed 
them by a series of violent kicks. One boot 



92 TOLLY’S SHOP 

flew across the room and hit the screen door. 
The other landed under Cousin May’s desk. 

Polly looked at him in surprise, but neither 
Mrs. Murray nor Marcia seemed even to notice 
Bill’s boots. Bill returned at once to his book. 

Marcia finally chose a thick volume of fairy¬ 
tales, with beautiful pictures. Polly looked 
at the little yellow slip showing above its pages. 

The slip was typewritten, and had on it the 
name of the author, the name of the book, the 
name of the publisher, and how much it cost. 
Cousin May had explained the plan to Polly. 
When any one bought a book, this slip was to be 
taken out and put on the desk. It recorded the 
sale, and showed which book was bought and 
that another copy should be ordered. Of most 
books, Cousin May had only one copy. 

Polly looked at the slip and then at Marcia. 
“ It costs three dollars and fifty cents,” she 
said. “ Will your mother let you have it? ” 


ABOUT MARCIA AND BILL 93 


“She will,” said Marcia calmly. “Now, 
show me your child.” 

Polly ran for Fair Rosamond, who was still 
in her nightdress, asleep in the bed Mother had 
made from a wooden box. Large spools 
formed its legs, and a row of small spools was 
nailed across the headboard. It was stained 
the same soft blue as the bookcases. Polly was 
pleased with that bed, especially as Cousin May 
said that spool beds were fashionable. Mother 
made it after Uncle Jack left on Sunday after¬ 
noon. 

Marcia liked Fair Rosamond. She handled 
her so gently that Polly was willing to let her 
dress her. Marcia told Polly about her own 
dolls and promised to show them to her. Polly 
told Marcia about the doll-house Mother and 
Uncle Jack had made her, and about the twenty- 
three inch-high people who lived in it. 

“ There! Fair Rosamond is dressed,” said 


94 POLLY’S SHOP 

Marcia, fastening the last tiny button. “ My 
children are dressed, too, but I didn’t put any 
of them to bed last night. Do you like my 
cretonne trousers? ” 

“Not very well,” said honest Polly. 

“ They are hot,” admitted Marcia, looking at 

her legs, “ very hot. I would take them off if 

# 

I thought Mother would stand for it. Why 
shouldn’t she? She told me I could wear any¬ 
thing I chose; why should she object if I choose 
to wear nothing? ” 

“ Well, she will,” said Polly. “ My mother 
would, too.” 

“ When I grow up,” went on Marcia, “ I am 
going to have six children, three girls and three 
boys, and they need never wear any clothes at 
all if they don’t want to.” 

“ If they don’t have to wear them, they will 
want to,” said Polly. 

“ I suppose so,” sighed Marcia. “ I shall 


ABOUT MARCIA AND BILL 95 

have to keep these trousers on. This afternoon, 
after lunch, I am coming along the cliff path 
and take you back to my house to play. Do you 
know what a dryad is? ” 

“ Yes,” said Polly unexpectedly. “ A lady 
who lives in a tree.” 

“We have one at our place,” Marcia in¬ 
formed her. 

“ I didn’t think people could ever really see 
them,” said Polly in wonder. “ Aren’t they 
only in stories? ” 

“ You can see this one,” Marcia announced. 


CHAPTER EIGHT 


Tells About the Dryad 
T two that afternoon, Polly sat on the 



JTjl. bookshop steps, watching the path 
around the cliff. She was expecting to see 
Marcia’s cretonne trousers, and at first did not 
recognize her in white socks and shoes and a 
simple wash dress, made very much like Polly’s 
own. Polly also had put on socks, and Fair 
Rosamond had changed to an afternoon frock. 

After speaking to Mrs. Winsor, the two chil¬ 
dren crossed the little river by a foot-bridge 
into the grounds of a near-by hotel. Having 
crossed, they turned sharply to the left on the 
narrow path that led around the cliff. 

Polly had never seen a path like this one, 


TELLS ABOUT THE DRYAD 97 

winding amid grasses starred with clover and 
daisies and buttercups, and, in places, jeweled 
with wild strawberries. On one side the turf 
and rocks sloped to the sea, which this afternoon 
was gay and sparkling. On the other side lay 
spaces of grass, blueberry-bushes and bayberry 
and sweet fern, with pleasant-looking houses 
on the top of the slope. Almost all the people 
liked to keep the tall grass and bushes about 
their homes, but one or two wanted lawns like 
those around their city houses. These lawns 
looked oddly out of place with the rocks and 
the sea. 

The swirling tide was low, and Marcia told 
Polly about the crabs that lived in the rock- 
pools among the seaweed, and about the aqua¬ 
rium she and Bill made one summer. Polly 
planned to ask Mother about making one. 

Marcia’s house was the fifth along the cliff, 
and was distant about half a mile, not nearly so 


98 POLLY’S SHOP 

far as around by the scalloping road. When 
they reached it, Bill was sitting on the rocks by 
the path, dressed for the afternoon, and with¬ 
out his rubber boots and baseball cap. He 
grinned companionably at Polly, who smiled 
back. Polly didn’t know many small boys, 
and didn’t much care for those she did know, 
but she could not help liking Bill, all freckles, 
and just at the age when he didn’t have any 
front teeth. 

“ You see that big white birch near the 
porch? ” Marcia asked. 

“ Yes,” said Polly. 

“ The dryad lives there,” Marcia announced 
solemnly. 

Polly looked respectfully at the tree. “ Has 
she always lived there? ” she asked. 

“ She was there last summer,” Marcia re¬ 
plied, “ and as soon as we came this year, we 
looked for her and she was still there.” 


TELLS ABOUT THE DRYAD 99 


“ Can I see her? ” asked Pollv, “ or is she one 
of the things you just say you see? ” 

“You can see her and touch her, too,” said 
the grinning Bill. 

Marcia made no move to go nearer the tree 
and Polly looked at her expectantly. 

“ I hope she is feeling good-natured,” said 
Bill in the silence that followed. 

“ Well, we may as well go,” said Marcia, 
starting in the direction of the tree. “ I always 
introduce my friends to her. But, Polly, she 
is a dryad, you know. You mustn’t call her by 
any other name.” 

“ I won’t,” Polly promised. 

The three crossed the grass to the birch tree 
which grew near the edge of the cottage porch. 
Marcia climbed on the porch rail. 

“ Can you get up beside me? ” she asked 
Polly. 

Polly was good at climbing, and squirmed 


100 POLLY’S SHOP 

lightly up beside Marcia. Bill stood with his 
hands in his pockets. 

Marcia put her finger on what seemed a loose 
bit of bark. “ Touch this,” she said. 

Polly gingerly put her small forefinger 
upon it. 

“ Now, push,” said Marcia. “ No, not in, 
but to one side. That’s right.” 

The slab of bark swung aside on some in¬ 
visible pivot and disclosed a little cavity, hol¬ 
lowed from the wood. In this hole stood a 
dainty slender figure about three inches high, 
with gauzy green skirts and a green veil over 
her tiny head. Through the tissue veil, Polly 
could see her pretty face and her wee hands. 

“ She’s only a little French doll Aunt Louise 
brought from Paris,” said the blunt Bill. 

“She’s a dryad!” shrieked his sister with 
sudden anger. “ You’re not to call her any¬ 
thing else, so now, Bill Murray, Junior! She 



TELLS ABOUT THE DRYAD 101 


lives in the tree and she’s very happy there and 
she isn’t to be called a doll! She perfectly hates 
that name! ” 

Polly and Marcia looked at each other with 
complete comprehension. Bill could not be ex¬ 
pected to understand. No boy could. Then 
Polly dimpled all over her face. 

“ I think she is a perfectly beautiful dryad,” 
she said. 

She slipped the bark door into its place. No 
one could guess that a little woodland lady 
lived behind it. Polly took another peep at 
her, again slid the door into position and smiled 
at Marcia. 

“Now, come and see my doll-house,” said 
Marcia. 

Marcia’s summer home was a pretty cottage 
with gray shingled walls and roof. On one 
side, it looked over the ocean, and on the side 
next the land, the ground was high and rolling 


102 POLLY’S SHOP 

and dropped abruptly to the street by a steep 
and crooked driveway. 

Near the place where the drive dropped was 
a big rock, and Bill went to stand there. 

Marcia showed Polly her doll-house, which 
was unusual only because Marcia chose to have 
June bugs live in it rather than dolls. It held 
six of the big gold-colored beetles, four crawling 
about the dining-room, and two tucked into 
small beds. When Polly saw them, she put her 
hands behind her and took a step backward. 

“ They won’t hurt you,” said Marcia. 
“ They fly only at night. In the daytime, they 
are just plain dumb. Bolton, the chauffeur, 
catches them for me. I like the brown May 
bugs better, but it is too late for them.” 

Polly watched, fascinated, but rather 
shocked, while Marcia capably hustled the 
June bugs about, putting them into garments 
of colored tissue paper, out of which they 


TELLS ABOUT THE DRYAD 103 


slowly and clumsily tore their way. Of course, 
it was an advantage to have live toys that 
could move around, and Polly saw that Mar¬ 
cia was deft and gentle and did not hurt the 
June bugs, but still, she could not bring her¬ 
self to touch them. 

“ We need a new set of dishes,” said Marcia 
suddenly, shutting up the house. “ I have 
been meaning to make them for a week. You 
can help me. Do you know how? ” 

“ No,” said Polly, “ unless you mean model¬ 
ing clay.” 

“ No, I make my dishes out of paper,” Mar¬ 
cia announced. “ We shall need a pencil and 
both pairs of Mother’s embroidery scissors and 
a penny and a dime and a quarter.” 

Marcia jumped up to assemble this odd list 
of tools. Having collected them, she and Polly 
sat down at one end of the long porch. 

“ This set of dishes is to be blue,” Marcia 


104 POLLYS SHOP 

decided. “ The last ones I made were red, and 
I am tired of them. Red isn’t a color you like 
for always.” 

Marcia held a paper tablet of assorted colors. 
“ Do you like the blue? ” she asked, “ or shall 
we make them violet? ” 

“ That shade of violet isn’t pretty,” replied 
Polly. “ Either the blue or the yellow would 
be better.” 

Marcia tore out a sheet of blue paper. “‘ Take 
this dime,” she directed, “ and draw around it 
with the pencil. Make twelve. Then cut 
them out. They are the bread-and-butter 
plates. Then make some bigger plates with 
the penny and the quarter. I will do the cups 
and saucers, because those are cut each in one 
piece.” 

Polly was delighted with this new play and 
set to work at once. She cut all the plates, 
and made, very neatly, a set of oblong platters, 


TELLS ABOUT THE DRYAD 105 


and then, watching Marcia, she cut a cup and 
saucer. It was in profile with a flap to bend 
under, so that the cup could stand. She even 
cut a pitcher while Marcia did a coffee-pot and 
a teapot. Then they cut the roses from a paper 
napkin to use as doilies on a white-covered 
table. To set the table, they had to move in¬ 
doors, because the sea breeze blew the dishes 
about. 

“ What is Bill doing on that rock? ” Polly 
asked as they gathered their things to move. 
Marcia looked at her brother, who stood on the 
high rock, making strange motions with his 
arms. 

“ Oh, he spends hours there,” she answered, 
“ playing he is a traffic officer. The main road 
goes below that rock, and there are lots of cars, 
and Bill waves to direct them. Of course, they 
don’t see him, and they wouldn’t pay any atten¬ 
tion to him if they did see, but he has the time 


106 POLLY’S SHOP 

of his life standing there and pretending to 
boss them all.” 

“ If he can pretend that,” said Polly, “ it’s 
funny he doesn’t understand about the dryad 
in the birch-tree.” 

“ He can pretend, all right, when it suits 
him,” agreed his sister, “ but it has to be auto¬ 
mobiles, or airplanes, or tin soldiers before his 
make-believe works.” 

Polly’s attention was again caught by some¬ 
thing on the slope between the house and the sea. 
Beneath a group of pine-trees a cat was playing. 

“ Is that your kitty? ” she asked. “ What 
is she doing? ” 

“ Yes, it is Taupe,” said Marcia. “ She 
probably has a mole. She finds one down un¬ 
der the thick pine needles, and she can’t really 
get it, but she runs it around like a little lawn- 
mower. Daddy says my kitty hasn’t good 
sense. Sometimes she drives a whole lot of 


TELLS ABOUT THE DRYAD 107 


grasshoppers up the slope, not letting them 
stop a second.” 

“ She’s a pretty kitty,” said Polly. “ I wish 
I could have brought my Mittens with me, but 
Cousin May doesn’t like cats very well, so 
Grandma said she would take care of Mittens 
till I come home.” 

“ Bill had a puppy last summer, but it died,” 
said Marcia. “ Taupe acted as though she 
owned it. She chased every other dog off the 
place and wouldn’t let one even smell noses 
with Snip. When one came, she would come 
running and stand between it and Snip. But 
the silliest thing she did was to wash the pup¬ 
py’s face, just as though she didn’t know him 
from a kitten.” 

The little girls settled themselves by a win¬ 
dow in the big living-room. The window was 
large and wide, and the glass was extremely 
clear. Marcia said that it was called a “ pic- 


108 


POLLY’S SHOP 


ture-window,” because it was planned to frame 
one especially lovely view. 

About four, Mrs. Murray came in. She 
brought with her a plate of ginger cookies. She 
admired the new tea set, but agreed with Polly 
that the June bugs were odd playthings. She 
told Polly to ask her mother if she might go 
with Marcia the next morning to play on the 
big beach. 

“ I think I may,” smiled Polly. “ Shall I 
wear my bathing suit? ” 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Murray. “ You will 
probably wish to get wet before coming back. 
Tell your mother that if I do not go myself, 
Nurse will go with you and Marcia and Bill. 
We will stop for you about ten.” 

“ And I will take my sea-horse and Bill will 
take his big green frog,” put in Marcia. “ If 
the water is smooth, we can have great fun with 
them.” 


TELLS ABOUT THE DRYAD 109 

A very radiant Polly skipped gayly home 
along the cliff path after a happy afternoon. 
Excepting Carola, back in Longfield, she had 
never met so interesting a playmate as Marcia 
Murray. How much she had to tell Mother! 
And what a lovely summer she was going to 
spend in “ Polly’s Shop ” ! 


CHAPTER NINE 


Tells About the Strawberry Jam 

P OLLY'S SHOP ” was doing well, and 
people were coming back the second 
time. Cousin May was especially pleased, be¬ 
cause she wanted to start a bookshop in the city 
where she lived. Her father had promised to 
help her if she managed the Ponagansett one 
so that she paid her summer expenses. He did 
not expect her to do more than that. 

Some days Cousin May was glad that he 
did not expect more, because she was sure that 
she would never sell the books she already had 
on the shelves. But the very next day, some¬ 
body would come and buy several at a time. 
And always, once a week, but usually now on 

Saturdays, Mrs. Murray and Marcia and Bill 

no 


STRAWBERRY JAM 111 

came, and the children each chose a book. It 
looked as though they meant to do it all sum¬ 
mer. And it wasn’t just because of friend¬ 
ship, but because they really loved the books. 

One morning, Polly and her mother picked 
three quarts of wild strawberries. Mother 
meant to make them into jam to surprise 
Grandma. 

There were many more disagreeable things to 
do than sit on a grassy cliff overlooking the 
sea and pick berries under a sky as blue as blue 
could be, with just one little white cloud, “ no 
larger than a man’s hand ” to show that it 
wasn’t blue all the way up. A cool wind came 
from the ocean, and a white-throated sparrow 
sang near by. Mother told Polly a memory 
she had of this bird, one of the secrets they had 
just for each other. 

“ Some people call it a Peabody bird,” she 
said, “ because they think it says that word over 


112 POLLY’S SHOP 

and over, but I think it says something else. 
Listen, Polly.” 

Mother whistled an odd little chain of notes. 
“ Listen to the bird, now,” she said. “ Does it 
sound the same? ” 

“ Yes,” said Polly, listening closely. “ It 
does, Mother. What is the music? ” 

“ What I whistled is part of the wedding 
march, the music played when the bride and 
groom go up the church aisle. You remember 
when Cousin Eva was married, how they walked 
up the aisle to the music of the organ? It was 
played for Daddy and me, when we were mar¬ 
ried in our church back in Longfield. Then we 
came to Maine on our wedding-trip. White- 
throated sparrows are seldom seen in Longfield, 
so I had never heard one sing till then. We 
said it was singing a phrase from the wedding- 
march for us. Isn’t that pleasant to remem¬ 
ber? ” 


STRAWBERRY JAM 


113 


Polly thought it was. She was growing 
older now, and beginning to know how brave 
and cheerful her mother always was, and how 
hard she tried to have Polly realize something 
of the father she could not remember. What 
a pity that the boat on that far-away South 
American river had not been better-con¬ 
structed, or better-managed, so that all the 
party of scientists could have returned! 

“ I shall call it the wedding-march bird,” 
said Polly seriously, and she knew from Moth¬ 
er’s quick smile that she was pleased. 

Cousin May helped pick over the berries 
during the noon. All the little shops in Pona- 
gansett closed from twelve to three. This cus¬ 
tom made it possible for the three to have din¬ 
ner together. At supper time, Mother and 
Polly went first, and then kept shop while 
Cousin May had hers. 

When the berries were all picked over, 


114 POLLYS SHOP 

Mother put them in a kettle which she had 
bought on purpose. 

“ Why didn’t I buy a long spoon? ” she 
lamented. “We have nothing to stir this 
jam but a tablespoon, and its handle is too 
short. Isn’t there anything else, May? ” 

“ Only the bread-knife,” said Cousin May, 
turning over all the kitchen things. 

“ And not even a clean piece of wood to 
make a paddle,” said Mrs. Winsor. “ My 
palette-knife is too stuck up. A paint-brush 
handle — what can I use? ” 

“ I don’t see anything but one of my big 
knitting-needles,” said her cousin. 

“ Then your knitting-needle it must be,” re¬ 
plied Mrs. Winsor, taking from May’s bag 
a huge wooden needle. 

Polly giggled outright at the idea of stirring 
jam with a knitting-needle, but when washed 
and dried, it worked very well. Its flat wooden 



STRAWBERRY JAM 115 

head acted something like the bowl of a big 
spoon. 

“ I must get this jam into jars before the 
shop opens,” Mother said anxiously. “ What 
time is it, Polly? ” 

Polly looked at the clock. “ It is quarter 
to three now,” she answered. She was stand¬ 
ing by Mother in the “ kitch,” while Cousin 
May rested on the couch. 

“ I shall put it in glasses, anyway,” Mother 
decided. “ If it isn’t hard enough, a few days 
in the sunshine will make it right.” 

“ I shouldn’t hurry it,” said Cousin May from 
the other side of the curtain. “ People may 
not come precisely at three.” 

But for once, people came before the hour. 
A big car with two ladies and four children 
drove up and they got out and made straight 
for “ Polly’s Shop.” Cousin May had to open 
the door. 


116 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“My, that smells good!” said one of the 
ladies immediately. “ Strawberry jam! ” 
Behind the snugly-drawn curtain Mother 
and Polly smiled at each other. Polly handed 
the glasses one by one, till the kettle was al¬ 
most emptied. Seven ruby-red glasses sat on 
the edge of the sink. Polly was reaching the 
last glass when the kettle slipped. Mother 
made a quick movement and her elbow struck 
the row of glasses. Polly sprang to save them. 

When the crash of kettle and glass stopped, 
two jars were in the sink and one on the floor 
and the knitting-needle had flown over the top 
of the curtain into the bookshop. Polly and 
Mother heard an exclamation in a strange voice, 
but neither noticed the flying needle. Behind 
the curtain, jam was everywhere, including 
Mother’s white shoes and Polly’s clean dress. 
Worst of all, that jam was hot. 

Cousin May peeped anxiously around the 


STRAWBERRY JAM 


117 


curtain. “ Did you get burned? ” she asked in 
a whisper. She need not have whispered be¬ 
cause the customers in the shop were laughing 
loudly. 

Neither was burned, though both were dread¬ 
fully sticky. They went into the bedroom 
where Mrs. Winsor began to unbutton Polly’s 
dress. 

“ I won’t change my shoes till I have cleaned 
up the mess,” she began, just as Cousin May 
rushed into the room. 

“ I want a clean face-cloth! ” she announced 
abruptly, “ to get the jam off that woman’s 
hair! ” 

" Wliat! ” exclaimed Mrs. Winsor in horror. 

“ Her hair,” repeated Cousin May, wringing 
the face-cloth out of water. “ The knitting- 
needle landed on the open pages of a big Robin¬ 
son Crusoe that lady was looking at. The jam 
flew up into her front hair. Luckily it did not 


118 POLLY'S SHOP 

burn her, nor land on her hat, for her hair will 
wash. At least, I hope it will. Being white, 
it may stain. She very nearly dropped her eye¬ 
glasses. She did drop the book.” 

Cousin May vanished in haste, carrying the 
wet face-cloth, and the two left behind looked 
at each other and laughed till they cried. 

The lady was pleasant about the jam on her 
hair, but she did not buy the Robinson Crusoe . 
She did not buy anything, and Cousin May was 
only too glad to have her go without a fuss. 

When the door closed behind the party, she 
hurried to help her cousin. When they were 
counted, only one of the seven jars was a wreck, 
but it was hard to believe that all the spilled 
jam came from that one glass and from the little 
left in the kettle. All the dishes had to be 
washed, the sink, the wall, and the floor. The 
curtain needed washing, but could not be taken 
down till after the shop closed for the night. 


STRAWBERRY JAM 


119 


Every one must take care not to brush against 
it in passing. 

It seemed as though more people came to buy 
books that afternoon than ever before. Every 
time some one came, Mother had to stop clean¬ 
ing and wait until they went. Altogether, that 
strawberry jam stretched itself over nearly 
the whole day. 

“ It reminds me of something that happened 
when I was a freshman in college,” Mother told 
Polly in one of these times of waiting. “ The 
college entertained the Trustees at dinner, and 
we freshmen waited on the tables. I was one 
of three assigned to the table where the Presi¬ 
dent of the Trustees sat. We were passing the 
vegetables and one of the other girls had a dish 
of squash. Nobody knew how it happened, 
but poor Ruth tilted the dish and spilled that 
squash all over the President’s dress-suit and 
down his neck! ” 


120 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“Did she mean to spill it?” asked the 
shocked Polly. 

“ O dear, no! ” laughed Mother. “No more 
than I meant to spill the jam just now.” 

“ And what happened next? ” demanded 
Polly. 

“ There was a sudden and terrible silence,” 
her mother went on. “ Ruth burst into tears 
and rushed out of the room, still clasping the 
empty dish. The President of the Trustees 
went out also, but slowly and dripping squash. 
The President of the college went with him. 
Somebody washed off the squash and found a 
fresh collar and shirt for him. Quite soon he 
came back, all smiles, and the dinner went on. 
But Ruth, poor girl, couldn’t be coaxed to re¬ 
turn. She went to bed in tears and felt badly 
till the next day when the kind man sent her a 
big bunch of red roses. Then she was com¬ 
forted.” 


STRAWBERRY JAM 


121 


“ Yes,” said Polly. Then she smiled. “ I’ll 
pick you a bunch of wild roses, Mother, because 
you spilled jam on me.” 

“ I’ll love to have them, darling. But do 
you know, Polly, I don’t believe I’ll try to make 
any more jam.” 

“ If you do,” said Polly wisely, “ I think 
you’d better buy a big spoon to stir it.” 


CHAPTER TEN 


Tells About the Ring-tailed Snorter 
HE little cloud “ no larger than a man’s 



JL hand ” grew during the time that the 
bookshop was steeped in strawberry jam, and, 
when things were finally clean again, had spread 
over most of the sky. 

“ It looks like a shower,” said Mother as she 
and Polly were coming home from supper. 
“ Is it going to rain, Captain Hallam? ” she 
asked as they met the grizzled old fisherman. 

“ Looks to me like a tempest,” replied Cap¬ 
tain Hallam, casting a weather-wise glance 
around the horizon, and by “ tempest ” he 
meant a thunderstorm. “ You haven’t been 

at Ponagansett before, ma’am? Well, we can 

122 


RING-TAILED SNORTER 123 


show you a tempest as is a tempest, a regular 
ring-tailed snorter.” 

Mother and Polly thought this a funny name 
for a thunderstorm. The sky grew grayer 
and darkness came early, but when Polly went 
to bed and to sleep, there was only an occasional 
mutter of far-distant thunder. 

Polly did not know how long she had been 
asleep, but suddenly she sat straight up in bed, 
absolutely wide-awake. She thought some¬ 
body had dumped a cartload of stones on the 
roof above her head. The next second the 
whole night seemed torn apart by blinding, 
quivering flame, there was a hiss and a sputter 
as though a big sea-serpent had crawled out of 
the ocean, and then another cartload landed on 
the roof, only this time, it appeared to be heavy 
iron rails. 

Polly reached for Fair Rosamond, who was 
sleeping calmly, not minding at all the dread- 


124 POLLY’S SHOP 

ful noise that shook the world. She clutched 
her tightly, and then it all began over again. 
Polly was frightened. She screamed for 
Mother. 

Mother hadn’t been in bed, and she didn’t 
hear Polly scream. The horrible racket on 
that roof drowned her voice till it was no louder 
than the squeak of a scared baby mouse. But 
Mother was coming, just the same, thinking 
that Polly couldn’t possibly sleep through such 
a noise. The next flash of lightning which 
lighted the room with its queer blue quiver 
showed Mother closing windows and then com¬ 
ing with arms out-stretched. Polly fairly 
leaped into them. 

“ Is this the — the ring-tailed snorter? ” she 

i 

asked, when safe in their refuge. 

“ I should judge it must be,” said Mother in 
an amused voice, and then a whole big cloud 
full of water landed right on top of the frail 



RING-TAILED SNORTER 125 


little fish-house that was “ Polly’s Shop.” The 
sound of that rain drowned even the growls 
of thunder. One of the casement windows 
banged open. 

Everything in the room seemed to take life, 
and scuttle away in fright. Polly’s hair-rib¬ 
bon blew off the dresser, a bottle of witch-hazel 
tipped over, her clothes flew off a chair, and all 
the garments hanging on the wall-hooks strug¬ 
gled to get away from the wind and the rain. 
Mrs. Winsor sprang to close the window, but 
the catch was bent. 

“ Turn on the light, Polly,” she directed. 

Polly tried to do so, but nothing happened. 

“ Either the fuse is burned out, or they have 
shut off the current at the power-house,” said 
her mother. “Never mind; I think this will 
hold now.” 

“ Edith,” called Cousin May, opening the 

$ 

door, “ do come and help me. The rain is 


126 


POLLYS SHOP 


coming right through the sides of this room and 
the roof leaks and I can’t get any light.” 

“ May I come, too? ” begged Polly. “ I’d 
rather be where you are, Mother.” 

“ Yes,” said Mother. “ Be careful until we 
get a candle lighted.” 

Cousin May found the matches and the next 
minute the two pretty orange candles on the 
mantel, which were there only for ornament, 
were giving a faint and pale light in a badly 
messed bookshop. 

One of the high windows had blown open and 
was letting in a steady stream of water. A big 
leak had come near the fireplace and rain was 
dropping on Cousin May’s bed. 

“ Get the hand-basin, Polly and put on the 
couch,” exclaimed Mrs. Winsor as she stood on 
a chair to struggle with the window. Cousin 
May was frantically dashing about, throwing 
a rain-coat over a table of books, and snatch- 


RING-TAILED SNORTER 127 

ing others from shelves on the side where the 
rain was beating through. 

Polly ran for the basin and then helped move 
the books. Near the desk seemed the only com¬ 
pletely dry spot in the room, so they hastily piled 
all the books under and around it, and covered 
them with a rubber blanket brought for picnic 
use. 

No one had time to think until the books were 
safe. Then Mrs. Winsor sat down on a cushion 
on the dry side of the fireplace, and Polly crept 
into her arms. Cousin May raised an umbrella 
and sat on a chair in the middle of the wet room. 
Polly thought she looked funny, but neither she 
nor Mother so much as smiled, because Cousin 
May was almost crying. 

Still the cloud fell. New leaks came in the 
roof. More rain blew through walls. Water 
crept under the door to widen in a dark patch 
till it went down a crack in the old floor. 


128 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“ The man who rented this place to me said 
it was water-tight,” said Cousin May resent¬ 
fully. 

“ He had a mistaken idea of truth,” said 
Mother gently. 

“ He lied,” said Cousin May, and then they 
were quiet again. 

“Which are the rings on its tail?” Polly 
inquired after a time. “ Captain Hallam’s 
snorter? ” 

“ You will have to ask the Captain,” replied 
her mother. “ I am sure I can’t sort them out.” 

Mother was wondering just what was going 
on in the room she and Polly shared, but she did 
not like to say anything, because Cousin May 
was already so troubled. She whispered in 
Polly’s ear and slid her on to the cushion. She 
took a candle and went to see. 

“ Is everything afloat in there? ” her cousin 
asked when she came back. 


RING-TAILED SNORTER 129 


“ That roof seems to be tight,” replied Mrs. 
Winsor. “ I noticed that the shingles on the 
ell looked new. There is no damage except 
from a little rain that has beaten in around the 
south window. Some of the blue wrapping- 
paper is wet.” 

“ It would be,” said Cousin May grimly, and 
after a moment, she began to cry. 

That frightened Polly quite as much as the 
storm. She had never seen a grown-up person 
cry before. For a moment, it looked as though 
she would join Cousin May. 

“ Now, Polly,” said Mother softly, “ I can’t 
have you weeping, too. There is quite enough 
water in here already. Don’t add any more.” 

Polly laughed instead of crying, and her 
mother began to comfort Cousin May, who at 
last agreed that in the morning they might find 
that not much harm had been done, that they 
would certainly make a few remarks to the 


130 POLLYS SHOP 

man who owned the fish-house, and that Uncle 
John, Cousin May’s father, would not blame 
her for a storm that no one could help. 

By this time, the rain was lessening, and the 
thunder and lightning grew more distant. The 
clock showed that it was after eleven, an un¬ 
heard-of hour for Polly and Fair Rosamond. 

They moved the couch to a place where the 
roof didn’t drip, tucked Cousin May into it, 
and kissed her good-night. Then they went 
to bed themselves. It was possible now to open 
the windows upon such a sweet, rain-washed 
world with the ring-tailed snorter moved far 
away and the surf sounding on the rocks. 

Next morning things looked far less dismal. 
The rugs had to be put out to dry in the sun-* 
shine, but even May admitted that only one 
book was really damaged, and that was the 
Robinson Crusoe upon which jam had already 
been spilled. 


CHAPTER ELEVEN 
Tells About Fourth of July 
T the cove end of Ponagansett lived a 



JljL number of artists, “ real artists,” Marcia 
called them in distinction from the many peo¬ 
ple who came each year and took lessons in 
painting, and were to be seen everywhere with 
canvas and color-box. Polly’s mother was one 
of the “ real artists,” so both little girls thought, 
but Mrs. Winsor herself did not think this, 
and she was anxious to take some lessons and 
improve her work. 

In some of the fish-houses near “ Polly’s 
Shop ” were studios where classes were held. 
The artists were very informal and friendly, 


131 


132 POLLY’S SHOP 

and did not care if they were quite different 
from other people in the way they lived and 
worked. 

Along the first of her stay, Polly was amazed 
one morning to see a man walk into the book¬ 
shop so early that the breakfast table still stood 
before the fireplace. His thick brown hair 
stood on end, and a mustache and beard made 
him look odd. Most of the men Polly knew 
were clean-shaven. His blue smock did not 
surprise her for she was used to seeing Uncle 
Jack take off his coat and put on a smock when 
drawing, but Uncle Jack’s smock was never so 
dirty as the one worn by this visitor. Grandma 
would never have let it stay so soiled. 

The queer man did not even say good¬ 
morning; he looked around the shop as though 
expecting to see something, and then exclaim¬ 
ing “ I thought so!” he left as suddenly as 
he came. 


FOURTH OF JULY 


133 


“ What did he think? ” Polly asked Cousin 
May in surprise. 

“ I am sure I don’t know,” was the answer. 
“ From his looks, I should not suppose he did 
much thinking.” 

The last blue-and-orange cup was being put 
on tHe shelf when the young man returned. 
In one hand, he carried a hammer and a big 
nail, and in the other, a framed picture. 

“ This will complete your room,” he said to 
May. “ I’ll hang it for you, Miss — Miss — ” 

“ My name is Bishop,” said the astonished 
May. 

“ Mine is Raphael,” announced the stranger, 
calmly. “ Rafe, for short. I shall call you 
Lily Bell.” 

Behind the curtain Mrs. Winsor choked with 
laughter. She drew Polly into the bedroom. 

When they came out, the young man had 
gone, and Cousin May was glaring at the paint- 




134 FOLLY’S SHOP 

ing hung above her mantel, a vivid affair of 
red and yellow. 

“ It appears to be a portrayal of autumn — 
Lily Bell,” said Mrs. Winsor softly. 

“ It appears to be a sketch of eggs scrambled 
with tomato,” said her cousin severely. “ And 
do I look like a Lily Bell? ” 

Polly twisted her head to get a better view. 

“ Hasn’t he hung it the wrong way up? ” 
she asked earnestly. 

But Rafe, for nobody seemed to know his 
right name, became a real friend. It was he 
who urged everybody he knew to visit the book¬ 
shop, and who, on the morning after the ring¬ 
tailed snorter, came to see what damage had 
been done, and whisked May off to see the 
owner of the place. 

“ He told me it was water-tight,” she said 
indignantly. 

“ He tells every tenant that,” Rafe agreed 


FOURTH OF JULY 135 

cheerfully. “ Come along, Lily Bell, and when 
you have said your gentle say, I will speak a few 
purple words in his ear.” 

“ What does he mean? ” Polly asked when 
the little car had driven away. 

“ I don’t think he knows himself,” said 
Mother, who seemed amused. “ He is just 
young and happy, and wants to be kind.” 

Cousin May returned in good spirits. She 
said that Rafe had certainly made an impres¬ 
sion on the man who owned the fish-house. The 
roof should be repaired before a second sun 
had set. Building-paper should sheath the 
wall where the rain had beaten through. And 
Rafe assured them that probably there wouldn’t 
be another storm like that all summer. 

On the Fourth of July, Mother and Polly 
were invited to have dinner with the Murrays 
and to share their celebration. Cousin May 
was asked, but she had already promised to go 


136 POLLY’S SHOP 

to a dance with Rate and some other young 
people. 

On that day a great deal went on, and crowds 
of people came to Ponagansett. Over at the 
big beach, all sorts of entertainments filled the 
hours, but the Murray children were not taken 
over and Polly was not allowed to go. Cousin 
May intended to shut the shop, but found that 
visitors wished to come in. There were still 
customers in the bookshop when Mother and 
Polly put on fresh white dresses and set off 
along the cliff to the Murray house. 

Marcia and Bill were waiting for them on 
the rocks. There were other guests for din¬ 
ner, and the three children ate at a small table 
on the porch with Marcia’s old nurse to attend 
to them. It was a regular Fourth of July din¬ 
ner : boiled salmon, green peas, little new boiled 
potatoes, egg sauce for the fish, strawberry ice¬ 
cream and sponge cake. 


FOURTH OF JULY 


137 


The children finished before the grown peo¬ 
ple, who were having a nice time over their cof¬ 
fee, judging by the way they were laughing 
and talking. 

“ Let’s go out to the edge of the cliff,” Mar¬ 
cia suggested. “ Daddy is going to set off the 
rockets on the sandy stretch below. It must 
be dark before he begins.” 

“ I had a nap this afternoon on purpose so 
I could sit up and see them,” said Polly. 

“ So did Bill,” said Marcia. “ I tried to 
sleep, but I couldn’t. There was too much 
noise.” 

Below the cliffs lay the little sandy beach and 
Bill pointed out the material for the bonfire 
which was to complete the evening. 

“ Daddy and some other men from the cot¬ 
tages got it to-day. They borrowed a truck, 
a grocery truck, and went around and picked 
up boxes and things from the houses along here, 


138 POLLY’S SHOP 

and we found stuff on the rocks. Do you see 
that little old Christmas tree? I found that 
down in a village backyard, and I dragged it 
up here myself. When the bonfire is lighted 
— whiz! You’ll see that tree of mine go up in 
sparks! ” 

Bill also pointed out the trough on legs where 
the rockets would be fired. 

“ It will be an hour before we can begin,” 
said Marcia. “ Let’s play croquet.” 

Polly and Bill held their mallets with both 
hands, but Marcia tried to imitate the older 
ladies and use only one. Nobody played at 
all well, and everybody argued, even gentle 
little Polly. When the older people came out 
from dinner, it did not sound as though they 
were enjoying that game. 

“ Why is it that children cannot play croquet 
without quarreling? ” exclaimed Mrs. Murray. 

“ It sounds precisely as it used to sound when 



FOURTH OF JULY 


139 


Jack and Barbara and I were playing,” agreed 
Mrs. Winsor. 

“ Let them fight it out, Peggy,” said Mr. 
Murray, a jolly-looking man. “ It is the only 
possible way they will ever learn how to give 
and take.” 

“ Perhaps,” his wife agreed, “ but if Bill and 
Marcia take to pulling hair, I shall call it off.” 

Nobody behaved so badly as to pull hair, and 
after a time, Marcia used both hands and won 
the game. They put away the mallets and balls, 
and Bill went off to his favorite play of directing 
traffic. 

Polly looked again at the dryad, and then 
found Taupe prowling about, much interested 
in the fireflies flickering in the bushes and high 
grass. She picked up the pretty kitty, that 
condescended to be stroked and loved, and even 
purred in a friendly way. Polly thought of 
her dear Mittens, and wondered whether there 


140 


POLLY’S SHOP 


had been a great deal of noise in Longfield, 
and whether Mittens had been frightened. 

Around the sky crept lovely sunset colors 
and a deep violet band that shaded into green. 
The quiet sea reflected the pink and blue of the 
clouds. Pretty little white-sailed boats were 
drifting home from the day’s pleasure cruise. 

. Far on the horizon a twinkle of lights showed 
that the Boston boat was going down the coast. 

“ Hooray! ” shouted Bill. “ They’re ready 
to begin! ” 

Some kind persons had arranged rugs and 
cushions on the rocks for people to sit and watch 
the fireworks. Contented Polly snuggled next 
Mother in the soft dusk, with the other ladies. 
Marcia and Bill went down in front with their 
father and the men guests. 

Heaped on the farthermost point of sand 
was the bonfire the young people had worked 
hard to collect. It was piled skilfully with 


FOURTH OF JULY 141 

barrels at the bottom, and crates and boxes and 
rubbish above, and was crowned on the top by 
Bill’s Christmas tree. 

All around the shore, rockets were blazing 
and Roman candles shed soft stars of varying 
color. Mr. Murray began his fireworks with 
Roman candles, and called Polly to come and 
shoot them off with Marcia and Bill. 

Polly did not quite enjoy it. When the first 
star came out and burst with a soft swoosh, she 
almost dropped the candle. 

“ It won’t hurt you,” said Mr. Murray en¬ 
couragingly, and he took hold of it with Polly. 

“ See mine! See mine! ” shrieked Bill, danc¬ 
ing about. 

“ Bill! ” screamed Marcia, “ turn it toward 
the sea, you silly! ” 

“ Bill, look what you’re doing! ” exclaimed 
his father. 

Bill obediently turned to face the ocean, but 


142 POLLY’S SHOP 

not before one star shot off directly over the 
heads of the ladies behind him. Mr. Murray 
left Polly and took Bill by the shoulders. 

“ Look here, son! ” he said firmlv. “ You 
see the lighthouse over there on the point ? Now 
aim this candle and every other candle directly 
for the light. If any more go off behind you, 
you’ll march straight up to the house and into 
bed.” 

Bill nodded and aimed his candle at the dis¬ 
tant lighthouse. 

After the first one, Polly liked holding the 
candles. She and Bill and Marcia stood in a 
row and watched the lights come out, red and 
yellow and blue and green. 

The men managed the rockets. One was 
laid along the slanting trough and lighted. 
Suddenly came a long swishing noise as the 
rocket rose into the air to burst into stars. 
Some dripped long lines of golden rain which 


FOURTH OF JULY 


143 


drifted softly for a little distance through the 
night. Then came the splash of the stick fall¬ 
ing into the still sea. 

After the Roman candles were all fired, the 
children had dazzlers, which Polly liked even 
better. She could not understand how they 
could shine in such bright sputters and yet not 
burn when a spark touched her hand. 

Mr. Murray had a few larger pieces, called 
fountains, which lasted a long time, throwing 
up lovely showers like golden water. Best of 
everything, Polly liked the few fireworks that 
let loose tiny balloons, that floated away before 
the gentle breeze, showing as little lights far¬ 
ther and farther away down the shore or over 
the water. She watched one completely out of 
sight around the point. 

Other people were celebrating the Fourth. 
On every side, when one had time to look, were 
the fire-lines of rockets and the floating stars 


144 FOLLY'S SHOP 

of Roman candles. But at last the Murray 
fireworks were all set off and it was time for 
the bonfire. Marcia told Polly that the bonfire 
always ended the celebration. 

When it was lighted, Polly came back to cud¬ 
dle beside Mother. At first came a flicker 
where the match touched, and then a climbing 
radiance till the whole big pile caught fire and 
the tree on top went up with Bill’s expected 
“ whiz ” and a shower of flying sparks. 

The light shone far over the ocean, which 
looked so black and mysterious that Polly felt 
glad she was safe on shore with friendly people 
all about her. And the light on the sea showed 
that all this time the tide had been coming 
steadily in, attending to its usual affairs even 
though the whole United States were cele¬ 
brating a birthday. 

The water crept inland, working around the 
little point of beach with the fire, until a wee 


FOURTH OF JULY 


145 


river came between it and the rocks, making an 
island of the bonfire. 

Marcia remembered another packet of fire¬ 
crackers. She ran up to the house for them 
and shared them with Polly and Bill. They 
threw the lighted crackers into the creeping 
river and when they exploded, it was with a soft 
noise and a fountain of spray almost a foot high. 

This was the best fun yet. The children 
made the little water volcanoes until the crack¬ 
ers were gone. The fire had burned out. Only 
a heap of embers was left. 

Then the Murrays and their guests got up. 
They formed a big circle around the dying fire, 
holding hands. They began to sing, and every¬ 
body joined in: 

\ 

“ Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 

And never brought to mind? 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 

And days of auld lang syne? ” 


CHAPTER TWELVE 


Tells How Polly Kept Shop 

M Y! but the night was dark when Mother 
and Polly started home by the path 
around the cliff. Mrs. Murray offered to send 
them in the car, but Mother said that was not 
necessary when the walk by the cliff was so 
short. But she did borrow Bill’s flashlight to 
help find the way. 

Just a few belated rockets were still going 
up as they reached home. The place was dark 
for Cousin May was at her dance. The shop 
had only one door-key, which Cousin May 
agreed to leave under a certain flower-pot. 

Mother looked under the flower-pot, but the 
key was not there. She turned the flash on all 
the flower-pots, but no key was to be found. 


HOW POLLY KEPT SHOP 147 


“ Try the door, Polly,” she said. “ Perhaps 
May forgot even to lock it.” 

Polly shook the door. It would not open. 

Mother looked again under the flower-pots. 
She looked all the way up the steps and on the 
tiny porch. 

“ Shall we have to sit up till they come? ” 
asked Polly, laughing. She was tired, but stay¬ 
ing out in the soft dark with Mother would be 
a new kind of fun. 

“ It is after ten, now,” said Mother. “ I 
shall be surprised if May is home by midnight. 
No, we will be burglars and break into our own 
house.” 

Mother went across to the big fish-house used 
for studios. Under its supporting piles she 
remembered seeing an old cracker-box. Stand¬ 
ing on it under her bedroom window, she could 
reach and remove the cheap sliding screen. 

“ Now, Polly, it is your turn. If I give you 


148 POLLY’S SHOP 

a big boost, do you think you can climb in? ” 

Polly was sure she could. Mother lifted her 
up, and she easily grasped the sill and slid down 
on the other side. 

“ Put on the light,” said Mother. “ And 
then the light in the shop.” 

“ Shall I see if the key is inside the door? ”‘ 
Polly asked. 

“ If it were, the door couldn’t be locked,” 
replied Mother. “ Bring from the bookroom 
that chair with the wooden seat.” 

Polly brought the chair and lifted it out the 
window to Mother. Mrs. Winsor set it on the 
sandy ground, placed the cracker-box on its 
seat and climbed through the window. She 
paused on its sill. Below her, the chair and 
box tipped over. 

“ How can we get them back? ” asked Polly, 
peering out. 

“ They must stay till morning. When we 


HOW POLLY KEPT SHOP 149 

can open the door, we will return the box and 
take in the chair. Now, to bed, as fast as you 
can scurry, oh, my only chicken! ” 

When they woke, Cousin May was still 
asleep. When they asked why she did not put 
out the key as expected, she said that she gave 
it to Rafe, and told him to put it under the 
flower-pot. Rafe put it into his pocket. 

“ I did not know till we came home,” she ex¬ 
plained to Mother. “ I was so annoyed because 
it made you so much trouble. We saw the box 
and the chair, and I told Rafe it was his fault 
that you and Polly had to climb through the 
window.” 

“ What did he say? ” asked Polly. 

“ Something very silly,” replied Cousin May. 

“ We liked climbing in the window,” observed 

Polly. 

“ Rafe thought you would,” said Cousin May. 

At first, Polly did not read as many of the 


150 


POLLY’S SHOP 


new books as she expected, and she avoided see¬ 
ing the people who came to buy them. But, 
as she had one happy time after another with 
Marcia, and found the artists and the people 
who had the other gift shops so easy to talk to 
and so friendly, she grew more willing to stay 
in the shop when somebody came. She was 
even looking forward to the story-hour which 
Cousin May planned to start the first of 
August. 

Mother wrote most of the letters ordering 
books, and kept the accounts from getting 
mixed. Cousin May talked with customers 
and advised them about which books would suit 
different children. 

Polly was pleased that Mother had sold every 
one of the pretty things she brought from home, 
some hand-made jewelry, some copper book- 
ends, and three lovely cobwebbed scarfs. She 
could have sold more had she time to make 


HOW POLLY KEPT SHOP 151 


them, but she was much interested in the paint¬ 
ing lessons she was taking, and in making 
studies of the ocean. 

One drowsy afternoon, Mother was out on 
the rocks, working earnestly over a sketch of 
the boats at anchor in the cove. Polly had been 
reading beside her until she found it cool, and 
came back to the bookshop, where Cousin May 
had just broken the nose-piece to her glasses. 
They were her only pair. 

“ Isn’t it lucky that it is the frame and not 
the lens? ” she said to Polly. “ I can get this 
mended here in the village, but if it had been the 
glass, I should have to mail it home. 

“Not a person has been in this afternoon,” 
she added. “ Do you think, Polly, you could 
stay here while I go to the village? If any¬ 
body does come, and you can’t manage, you 
could call your mother, you know.” 

Polly knew that Cousin May could see little 


152 POLLY’S SHOP 

without her glasses. She said at once that she 
would sit in the shop and read. 

“ I’ll be back as soon as I can,” said her 
cousin. “ Thank you, Polly.” 

The little shop was very quiet when May had 
gone. Polly watched her walking quickly up 
the pebble road, past the place where the Indian 
blankets and rugs and the totem poles from 
Alaska stood outside the gray old cottage; past 
the little house where Miss Stiles had such 
lovely silver things and pretty colored stones, 
which she had once shown Polly; past the tea¬ 
house where the lavender border had lost its 
beauty; out of sight beyond the house where 
they went for dinner and supper. 

Polly had not been entirely alone in the book¬ 
shop before, and she looked around as though 
seeing it in a different way. The roof no longer 
leaked, and the building-paper kept the shelves 
from getting wet, but she and Mother had de- 


HOW POLLY KEPT SHOP 153 


\ 

cided that the house was too “ thin-skinned ” 
to be really comfortable. It was not often very 
hot at Ponagansett, but when it was, that book¬ 
shop was very hot indeed, for the sun seemed to 
come right through the roof as the rain had 
come. It was true that it cooled off quickly at 
night, but sometimes, when everybody wanted 
to be comfortable and to rest after dinner while 
the shop was closed, it was hard to find a spot 
that did not seem like a furnace. As Mother 
said, the furniture was so hot that it fairly 
crackled. 

Then there were days when a fire on the 
hearth was not only pleasant, but necessary. 
And some of the mornings could be freezing 
cold. No, that shop was decidedly too thin a 
structure to be comfortable in all kinds of 
weather. 

That morning some new books had come. 
Polly was especially interested to see one of 


154 POLLY’S SHOP 

them, and sat down to read. She became so ab¬ 
sorbed that she did not hear any one come up 
the steps. When the door opened, she jumped 
at sound of the little bell, and hastily put down 
her book. 

An elderly gentleman came in, and when he 
saw Polly, he smiled at her slowly, but very 
kindly. 

“So you have come down off your sign for 
the afternoon, have you? ” he asked pleasantly. 

Polly smiled in answer. Other people had 
spoken of the little girl on the sign, but nobody 
had put it in just that way. 

“ Well, it is lucky for me that you are here 
to help me,” said the old gentleman, taking off 
the glasses he wore, and putting on another 
pair, “ because I want several books, and I want 
them for my little granddaughter. Her name 
is Mary and she is about your age, so you can 
tell me which of all these she would enjoy. 


HOW POLLY KEPT SHOP 155 


First of all, I want a book of fairy-tales. Now, 
what would you advise? ” 

He sat down by the table where the newest 
books were spread out, and he looked at Polly 
so earnestly that she felt a great desire to help 
him. She would not call Mother yet, not until 
he asked for something she could not manage. 
She felt that she could give advice about fairy¬ 
tales. 

The old gentleman examined the three books 
she brought him. One was another copy of the 
book Marcia chose on her first visit. 

“ This is a nice book,” said Polly. “ My 
friend Marcia says it is the best one she ever 
read. I have read it myself, and I think Mary 
would like it.” 

“ If you and Marcia both recommend it, I feel 
sure it will suit Mary,” said the old gentleman 
gravely. “ We will choose this to begin with. 
Now, can you show me a book about animals? ” 


156 POLLY’S SHOP 

Polly knew where the animal books were 
kept, and she told him which she preferred. 
“ These are about real animals,” she explained, 
“ not the kind where animals talk like people. 
I don’t like that kind of story, only the Jungle 
Books ." 

“ Mary does not like talking animals, either,” 
said the old gentleman, “ except those in the 
Jungle Books, and she has them.” 

He sat by the table and kept asking for books 
of different kinds, and Polly was so interested 
that she kept bringing them to him and they 
talked about each one that he added to his pile. 
Finally, ten books were laid aside. 

“ I think these will do for to-day,” he said 
at length. He looked carefully over those he 
had chosen. “ Now, little Miss Polly, do you 
know how much I owe you for these books? ” 

Polly explained about the yellow slip in each. 
She brought a pencil from Cousin May’s desk, 


HOW POLLY KEPT SHOP 157 


and a piece of paper, and wrote on it the price 
of each book in the pile. Then she added the 
column of figures. The old gentleman watched 
her with a smile in his eyes. 

“ How much is it? ” he asked, when he saw 
Polly write down the amount, and stand look¬ 
ing at it. 

“It is a great deal of money,” said Polly 
honestly, “ and I think you had better add it, 
too.” 

The old gentleman took Polly’s slip and 
looked at it. He did not need to use the pencil. 

“ I make it twenty-two dollars and seventy- 
five cents just as you do,” he said almost im¬ 
mediately. 

“ But do you think you ought to spend so 
much?” asked Polly. She had never heard 
Cousin May say anything of the kind, and per¬ 
haps it was not at all the thing to say, but that 
seemed an enormous amount of money to Polly. 


158 POLLY’S SHOP 

She couldn’t seem to think how much twenty- 
two dollars and seventy-five cents really was. 

“ I think I can afford it,” said the old gentle¬ 
man gravely. “ Let me see,” and he took out 
a bill-folder and looked into it. “ Yes, I be¬ 
lieve I have the money. But there is one book 
I have forgotten. Let me have that Robinson 
Crusoe over there.” 

“ Oh, we can’t sell that! ” said honest Polly. 
“ You see Mother spilled the strawberry jam, 
and the knitting-needle flew over the curtain 
and jam got on this book. And then Captain 
Hallam’s ring-tailed snorter came, and it was 
wet as well as jammy. Cousin May has or¬ 
dered another copy but it hasn’t come.” 

“ When it does come, I will buy it,” said the 

old gentleman. “But what was a knitting- 

« 

needle doing in the jam? ” 

Polly told him about the accident and the 
jam on the lady’s hair and about the storm. 


HOW POLLY KEPT SHOP 159 

The old gentleman sat and chuckled. Then he 
opened his bill-folder again and took out several 
bills which he counted on the table. 

“ There’s a five, and another five is ten, and 
five is fifteen and five is twenty, and two is 
twenty-two. Now, for the change.” 

He put up his folder and drew from a pocket 
a handful of loose change. He added three 
silver quarters to the pile. 

Polly thanked him, carried the money to 
Cousin May’s desk and placed it in the drawer. 
She brought some of the pretty paper and raf¬ 
fia with which packages were tied. 

“ I’m afraid I can’t do them as nicely as 
Cousin May does,” she said, “ but I’ll try.” 

“ I don’t believe I will have them done up,” 
said the old gentleman. “ My car is here, and 
I’ll have the chauffeur carry them out just as 
they are. And now, little Miss Polly, will you 
tell me your real name? ” 


160 


POLLYS SHOP 


“ But it is Polly, — that is, Pauline,” she 
smiled. 

“ Pauline? That is a pretty name. What 
is the rest of it? ” 

“ Pauline Winsor, sir.” 

“ Winsor,” said the old gentleman thought¬ 
fully. “ What is your daddy’s first name? ” 

“ It was Paul,” replied Polly. “ I was 
named for him, only it had to be a girl’s name.” 

“ Paul Winsor,” said the old gentleman 
again, and this time, he looked as though he 
were trying to remember something. “ Is 
Daddy with you and Mother? ” he asked gently. 

Polly explained. Somehow, she did not feel 
at all shy with this old gentleman with the white 
hair and kind eyes. Besides, he had just 
bought ten books. 

“ I used to know your daddy,” he said ab¬ 
ruptly when she finished. “ I should like to 
see your mother.” 



HOW POLLY KEPT SHOP 161 


“ I can call her,” said Polly. “ She is paint¬ 
ing just over the edge of the rocks.” 

“ I’ll go there and see her,” said the old gen¬ 
tleman, rising. “ As I go out, I will send in 
the chauffeur for this pile of books. I’ll be back 
again when the unjammy copy of Robinson 
Crusoe comes.” 

As he rose, he noticed the red and yellow 
painting over the mantel. He put on again 
his first pair of glasses and stopped to look at it. 
“ Who painted this? ” he inquired. 

Polly explained that Rafe had lent it to 
Cousin May. 

“ Is it for sale? ” asked the old gentleman. 

“ Rafe said he would sell it if anybody was 
artistic enough to want it,” said Polly frankly. 
“ But I think he painted it perfectly terribly! ” 

“ It is original,” said the visitor. “ What is 
Rafe’s other name? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Polly. “ Everybody 


162 POLLYS SHOP 

calls him that. His studio is in that big gray 
building.” 

“ I must look him up,” said the old gentle¬ 
man. “ I like to encourage young people who 
try to do something different. Good-bye, Miss 
Polly Winsor. I am glad I chanced to come 
on a day when you were down off your sign and 
attending personally to your customers.” 

He smiled again at her, shook hands and 
went out. A colored man in a trim uniform 
came and took away the tall pile of books. 
Polly saw the old gentleman turn toward the 
cliff where she had shown him Mother’s white 
felt hat. 


CHAPTER THIRTEEN 


* 

Tells About the Plague of Fleas 


P OLLY saw her old gentleman approach 
Mother, lift his hat, and, after a few 
words, sit down beside her. She wondered 
what they were saying. She longed to tell 
Mother about the books he had bought, and 
what he said about Rafe’s painting. 

When Cousin May came, which was soon, 
and with her eyeglasses entirely themselves 
again, she found Polly jumping up and down 
and clapping her hands. She took her cousin 
by the hand and led her to the desk where she 
showed the five bills and the three coins and the 
ten slips which stood for the books sold. Cousin 
May could hardly believe her eyes. 

163 


164 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“ Did you ever sell so many books any day 
before? ” Polly asked eagerly. 

Yes, Cousin May had sold more books in one 
day, but never so many to one person. 

“ I asked him could he afford them,” ex¬ 
plained Polly, “ and he looked in his pocket- 
book and smiled, and said he could.” 

Cousin May laughed. “ That is an unusual 
way to sell books,” she said, kissing Polly, “ but 
it seems to have worked very well in this case. 
The gentleman didn’t tell you his name? ” 

“ No,” said Polly, “ but he said he would be 
back to buy the new Robinson Crusoe, the one 
without jam. He went out to speak to Mother. 
He said he used to know Daddy.” 

“ Then I wouldn’t interrupt them,” Cousin 
May said quickly, as Polly started to run out. 

Polly hesitated. She very much wished to 
join the two on the cliff, but she knew it was 
impolite to interrupt when grown people were 


THE PLAGUE OF FLEAS 165 


talking together. And not many people ever 
talked to Mother about Daddy. 

After a time, the two on the cliff rose. They 
shook hands and the old gentleman went to¬ 
ward his waiting car. Apparently he was go¬ 
ing to leave Rate’s studio till another day. 

As soon as the car left, Polly dashed out to 
where Mother was gathering her painting traps. 
Mother’s face looked as though something had 
pleased her and her eyes were starry. Polly 
fell upon her with the tale of the ten books. 

“ But perhaps he told you himself, Mother,” 
she ended. 

“ No, he didn’t tell me about the books, Polly, 
but he did tell me something else, something 
most interes ting. You know that when a scien¬ 
tific expedition sets out to explore a strange 
country, it costs a great deal of money. Men 
who have the money, but not the knowledge 
needed to go on the trip, pay the expenses of 


166 POLLY’S SHOP 

those who do go. This gentleman is Mr. Lyon, 
and he was one of those who paid for the ex¬ 
pedition with which Daddy went to South 
America. When Daddy did not come back, 
Mr. Lyon felt very sorry. He tried to get in 
touch with me, but the only address he knew 
was where we used to live in Chicago. The 
letters he wrote came back to him. We had 
gone to live with Grandma, you know. I can’t 
see why they were not sent on to me, but it was 
a big apartment-house in a big city, and a new 
janitor came just as we left, and I suppose 
they didn’t know. Anyway, Mr. Lyon could 
not find out about us, and he kept on hoping to 
do so. He was very glad to come across us, 
to-day.” 

“ Why did he want to know us? ” asked 
Polly. 

“ Because of Daddy,” said Mother with a 
sweet look. “ He told me how clever and 


THE PLAGUE OF FLEAS 167 


talented he thought him, and that, if Daddy 
had lived, he would have been a really great 
scientist. Doesn’t that mean a lot to us, Polly 
dear? 

“ And there was another reason why he 
wanted to find us. He was afraid that after 
Daddy died, we might not find it easy to get 
along. He didn’t know, you see, that Daddy 
left us a little money, and that I could teach 
craft-work, and that we had Grandma and 
Uncle Jack to share their home with us. But 
isn’t it lovely, Polly, to think that somebody 
wanted to be sure we were safe and cared-for, 
and all because of Daddy? ” 

Polly didn’t answer, except by a hug and kiss, 
but that seemed to be exactly what Mother was 
expecting. Then she told Mother what Mr. 
Lyon said about Rafe’s painting. “ Do you 
think he will buy it? ” she asked. 

“ I don’t know,” said Mrs. Winsor, laughing, 


168 


POLLYS SHOP 


“ I agree that it is original, but I am glad that 
I did not paint it. I hope, for Rafe’s sake, he 
does buy it.” 

A fortnight later, Mr. Lyon came back and 
bought the new copy of Robinson Crusoe , and 
he also bought one of Rafe’s paintings, though 
not the one that hung in the bookshop. It was 
a picture that Cousin May said was done in one 
of Rafe’s saner moments. 

Rafe was so pleased that he brought Polly 
a five-pound box of chocolates. He said it was 
partly due to her that Mr. Lyon bought the 
painting, though of course, his own unselfish¬ 
ness in lending the red-and-yellow one to the 
bookshop was the real cause. 

Never in her life had Polly seen such a big 
box of candy, and since Mother never let her 
eat much at a time, neither did she see how they 
could dispose of it. Rafe kindly said that he 
would help, and he did, and so did Mother and 


THE PLAGUE OF FLEAS 169 


Cousin May and Marcia and Bill. The candy 
did not last long, after all. 

The next important thing that happened to 
“ Polly’s Shop ” was what Mother called the 
“ plague of fleas.” Suddenly, and without any 
reason as it seemed, all Ponagansett was beset 
by fleas. It did not matter whether a family 
had pets to bring them into the house, — the 
fleas came, anyway, and everywhere. 

Bill couldn’t seem to see one. Whenever his 
family exclaimed about them, Bill rushed to 
look, but by that time the flea had hopped to an¬ 
other place. Finally Bill was desperate. 

“ Daddy,” said he, “ if you see a black speck 
and then don’t see it, is that a flea? ” 

“ That is precisely it,” said Mr. Murray. 

The fleas came into the bookshop in numbers. 
They bit Cousin May badly and they bit Mother 
a little, but did not bother Polly. 

The village drugstore filled a window with 



170 


POLLYS SHOP 


different powders to sprinkle around and other 
kinds to burn. They were all supposed to be 
unpleasant to the fleas, but apparently there 
was some mistake about this. 

Rafe told Polly that her skin must taste dif¬ 
ferently from that of other people, since the 
fleas didn’t enjoy chewing her. Then he said 
that he could not have Lily Bell eaten alive and 
that he would take steps to rid the bookshop of 
the pests. He would attend to this imme¬ 
diately. 

What is he going to do, Mother? ” Polly 
asked when Rafe had gone off in his little flivver. 

“ I haven’t an idea, darling,” said Mrs. Win- 
sor, smiling. “ Something absurd, no doubt.” 

When Rafe came back, he brought a long 
flat paper package, which he laid on the table. 
He asked Polly where the string was kept. 

Polly brought him some string and they all 
watched to see what he would do. Rafe opened 


THE PLAGUE OF FLEAS 171 

the package which contained a number of sheets 
of sticky fly-paper. He fastened a sheet about 
each of his legs with the sticky side out. He be¬ 
gan to “ take steps ” up and down the book¬ 
shop. 

Mother and Cousin May and Polly laughed 
till they cried, but Rafe remained perfectly 
serious. And the plan worked. The fleas 
jumped on Rafe’s legs and there they stuck. 
In a few minutes the floor seemed quite free 
from them. 

Artists came from the near-by studios to 
laugh, but remained to admire. They asked 
Rafe if his process was patented. 

Rafe waved his hands airily. He said that 
he was no grafting inventor, but had a heart 
filled with love for his fellow men. They were 
welcome to help themselves to the fly-paper and 
follow his example. 

So the artists imitated Rafe. A messenger 


172 


POLLYS SHOP 


sped for more sticky paper and the supply at 
the grocery was soon exhausted. Miss Stiles 
sent to ask that some kind neighbor should 
“ take steps ” in her shop. 

Polly very carefully carried two sheets of 
paper, with the sticky sides together, up to the 
Murray cottage. Bill at once put on his rub¬ 
ber boots, tied on the fly-paper, and had the 
time of his life stamping up and down the house. 
And at last, Bill saw exactly how fleas looked. 

The strange part was that almost over night 
the fleas vanished. Perhaps so many were 
caught by the sticky paper that the rest moved 
on to save their lives. All Ponagansett smiled 
over Bafe’s solution, and the little weekly paper 
printed a tribute to his clever plan. 

Rafe merely said that something had to be 
done, and, as usual, it was left to him to do it. 


CHAPTER FOURTEEN 


Tells About the Whatnot 

O N her first Sunday in Ponagansett, Polly 
went with Mother to the pretty stone 
church on the hill. Such a lovely church, with 
beautiful memorial windows in soft colors, and 
a carved choir-screen, and an inlaid stone floor! 

The next Sunday they went to a small church 
much nearer the harbor and the group of made- 
over fish-houses. This was the one attended 
by the people who lived in Ponagansett all the 
year. The other church was open only during 
the summer and was used almost entirely by 
the summer visitors. Sometimes beautiful 
weddings took place there. 

Mother liked the village church, so she and 

173 


174 POLLY’S SHOP 

Polly went there each week. The first Sunday 
nobody spoke to them, but the second Sunday 
a lady gave Polly a little bunch of pansies just 
as they were going in. Polly laid them beside 
her on the seat and looked at them often during 
the sermon. When they were coming out, the 
minister, who was an old man, with a kind, tired 
face, shook hands with them. After that, they 
began to feel as though they belonged. 

Cousin May did not go with them. During 
the week she had to stay so steadily in her shop, 
that on Sundays, she liked to go bathing and 
driving with Rafe and the other young people. 

“ We go to church at home,” Mother said to 
Polly, “so we will go here. You know 
Grandma would expect us to do so.” 

Polly wondered whether Great-aunt Mary, 
and Great-uncle John did not expect Cousin 
May to go to church, but when she said so, 
Mother did not seem to hear. 


ABOUT THE WHATNOT 175 

Captain and Mrs. Hallam went to the village 
church and they invited Mother and Polly to 
sit in their pew, make it their church home, so 
Mrs. Hallam said. 

She was a small old lady, with a quick way 
of speaking and looking about her which was 
somehow like a little brown bird. She always 
walked to church arm-in-arm with the Captain, 
who was so bent with rheumatism that he was 
not much taller than she. On Sundays he did 
not wear the blue overalls and rough jersey 
with which he went about on week-days, but 
looked neat and uncomfortable in a heavy black 
suit and a white shirt, and a straw hat a size too 
large for his head. 

When she knew Polly better, and knew she 
was a little girl with gentle ways, Mrs. Hallam 
invited her to come one afternoon and see what 
she called her “ whatnot.” 

That day was the hottest it had been in Pona- 


176 POLLY’S SHOP 

gansett. It was so hot that the village side¬ 
walks softened and smelled as though the whole 
town were shampooing its hair with tar soap. 
Usually, even on a warm noon, there would be 
a breath of cool air near the water, but to-day 
the wind was persistently off-shore, and blew 
as though straight from a scorching desert. 

The Hallams lived in a little story-and-a-half 
cottage perched on the rocks. Before it was a 
white picket fence with a swinging gate, and 
hollyhocks and larkspurs looked over the fence. 
From the house was a lovely view over the sea, 
and a great many people, not all of them artists, 
wanted to buy that cottage for their own use, 
but Captain Hallam would not sell it. He said 
that he had lived there all his life and he “ cal- 
lated ” to end his days there. 

Polly opened the pretty gate and went up 
the flagstone walk. The flags were different 
colors, green and gray and blue, and even one 


ABOUT THE WHATNOT 177 

or two dull-red ones, and grass grew in the 
cracks between. 

The doorstep was a half-round of granite 
and the green door had no bell, only a knocker 
with an eagle on it, its wings spread wide, and 
its head turned to one side. 

Polly had never made a call all by herself 
before, and, if she had stopped to think what she 
was doing, she would have been shy. But she 
was only going to see some pretty things that 
kind Mrs. Hallam had offered to show her. 

“ Come right in, Polly,” said Mrs. Hallam as 
she opened the door. “ My, isn’t it hot, child! 
But there, that’s a real cool thin little frock 
you’ve got on, and socks are sensible for warm 
weather. I wish I was young enough to wear 
them myself.” 

She took Polly into a room that seemed cool 
only because it was less hot than outside, and 
where the shades were partly drawn against the 


178 


POLLY’S SHOP 


sun. “ Is your mamma pretty well? ” she 
asked. 

“ Yes,” said Polly primly. “ She is well and 
she hopes you are, and she thinks it is very kind 
of you to show me your pretty things.” 

“ Your mamma is a sweet dear girl,” said 
Mrs. Hallam warmly. “ She sets a sight by 
you, and we’re glad, Captain and me, that you 
seem to set so much store bv her.” 

m/ 

Mrs. Hallam meant that Polly and Mother 
loved each other, and somehow Polly under¬ 
stood, even though she had never heard it said 
in that way. 

“ Here’s the whatnot in the corner,” said 
Mrs. Hallam, “ and you may look at every¬ 
thing on it. I think the heat is a trifle cooler 
here in the fore-room, and I’ll bring my knit¬ 
ting and tell you anything you want to know.” 

The “ whatnot ” was a three-sided piece of 
furniture, with open shelves growing narrower 


ABOUT THE WHATNOT 179 

at the top, and it was crowded with most in¬ 
teresting-looking objects. Polly stood with 
her hands behind her back. She was not sure 
that “ looking ” meant that she might touch. 

Then she gave an exclamation of pleasure. 
On the top shelf were some tiny china animals, 
like those which once belonged to Grandma and 
now lived in Polly’s rainy-day drawer. There 
was a set of little Spitz dogs exactly like Polly’s, 
and a set of mastiffs like hers, not quite com¬ 
plete in number, but unbroken. Near them 
was a cat with four kittens. 

“ The dogs are like Grandma’s,” Polly said 
to Mrs. Hallam, who came back with her knit¬ 
ting. 

“ Are they now? ” asked Mrs. Hallam. 

“ She gave them to me,” Polly went on. “ I 
have some rabbits, too, — Mrs. Bun and her 
family, but no kitties.” 

“ I did have a set of deer,” said Mrs. Hallam 



180 


POLLY’S SHOP 


thoughtfully, “ but they lost all their legs and 
I don’t know what did become of them then. 
The legs of deer are sort of delicate, you know, 
even on the live ones.” 

“ What is this pretty glass ball with the little 
man and little lady inside it? ” asked Polly. 
“ And why have they opened the umbrella? 
Did they think it might rain? ” 

“ Take it in your hand and turn it upside 
down,” said her hostess. 

With great care, Polly turned it over. In¬ 
stantly the tiny couple stood in the midst 
of a heavy snowstorm. Polly laughed with 
pleasure. 

“ It’s odd how things come round again to be 
in fashion,” said Mrs. Hallam, smiling at her. 
“ That old thing, there — why these antique- 
hunters are on the war-path for such as that. 
I wouldn’t dare let one of them into my par¬ 
lor ; he’d talk the ears off me in less ’n no time. 



ABOUT THE WHATNOT 181 


Captain and me, we had those things when we 
married and expect to have them till we die.” 

For some moments Polly admired the little 
snowstorm ball, and the wee people in it found 
more use for their umbrella than for many weeks 
previous. 

“ You may touch what you like,” said Mrs. 
Hallam. “ Do you see that other glass thing, 
like a paper-weight? ” 

“ It is all tiny, tiny flowers,” exclaimed Polly. 
“ How did they ever get inside the glass? ” 

“ That’s another of the old, ancient things 
that people value these days,” said Mrs. Hal¬ 
lam, moving her needles very rapidly and not 
even looking at her work. “ When I was a girl 
they called them ‘ thousand flowers.’ I don’t 
know how they got into the clear glass over 
them, but I did hear that they made the flowers 
out of long slender glass rods. They bunched 
them in place according to color as they wanted, 


182 POLLY’S SHOP 

and then sliced them off like you would slice 
bread.” 

Polly spent a long time over that whatnot. 
Some things, like big sea shells, she only glanced 
at, and some she had seen before. Uncle Jack 
had a tarantula’s nest in his collection, and there 
were Indian arrowheads in the school museum. 
Grandma had little baskets made from cherry 
and peach stones. 

On the bottom shelf was something which 
Polly regarded with real awe. Inside a round 
glass bottle, with a long but small neck, was a 
little full-rigged ship. Its raking masts held 
sails fully set. How could anybody ever have 
made that ship inside that bottle? 

Mrs. Hallam saw that Polly was thinking it 
over, and she did not explain till Polly asked 
her. Then she showed her that each mast and 
each sail was controlled by a continuous strong 
thread. The boat was not made inside the bot- 


ABOUT THE WHATNOT 183 

tie as it looked. Its hull, with keel and bow¬ 
sprit, was long and slender and slipped easily 
through the neck of the bottle. Masts and 
sails were so fastened to the hull that they could 
lie perfectly flat upon it. When the little ship, 
quite completed, was slipped into the bottle, its 
maker pulled the thread, and the masts and sails 
rose to their correct position. 

“ Nobody who did not know, could ever 
guess,” said Mrs. Hallam. “ The sailors used 
to make them on long voyages to China or 
Japan. Captain’s grandfather whittled this 
one.” 

When Polly had looked at everything on the 
whatnot, Mrs. Hallam rolled her knitting. 

“ I am going to show you some other things,” 
she said, “ some I keep in the cabinet here. 
They are choicer than what you have been look¬ 
ing at.” 

The cabinet was Chinese lacquer, with draw- 


184 


POLLY’S SHOP 


ers at top and bottom, and doors in the middle, 
which opened to show other drawers. In itself, 
it was very pretty, with gilt dragons on a black 
ground. It stood on a three-legged table, and 
that also, was all scrawly dragons. 

“ I don’t show these to many people, Polly,” 
confided Mrs. Hallam, “ but you won’t go 
around talking, I know. Of course, you may 
tell your mamma, if you feel she’d be interested, 
but I don’t want all those artist chaps botherin’ 
me to show them things, and sell them things, 
and hectorin’ me to take off my floor the old 
rugs that my mother and Captain’s mother and 
my sister Susie, — she married up Bangor way, 
and died long ago, — the rugs they braided, to 
be used in those fish-houses they call studios. 

“Not that they are all such fly-by-nights,” 
she went on. “ Bafe, now, — Captain and I 
both like Bafe, and he isn’t half so bad as he 
looks, nor so unbrainy as he talks. No, Bafe 



ABOUT THE WHATNOT 185 

is all right. He acts like he wants folks to think 
him a lost soul, but his guardian angel is stand¬ 
ing by to lend a hand, and when Rafe has had 
his fling, why, as Captain says, he’ll haul hard on 
the grappling irons and land Rafe where he 
belongs.” 

Mrs. Hallam pulled a chair to the table for 
Polly and unlocked the cabinet. “ You may 
look for yourself,” she said. “ Take a drawer 
at a time.” 

Very carefully Polly pulled out the top 
drawer. In a nest of pink cotton lay a carved 
ivory ball. It was carving with wide spaces. 
Inside the ball was another, also carved, and 
moving freely about. Inside the second ball 
was a third, and inside that, another. Each 
ball was separate from those outside it and in¬ 
side it. There were seven layers in all, six 
balls and the innermost solid core. It took 
Mrs. Hallam’s knitting-needle to move them 


186 POLLY’S SHOP 

so that Polly could see all six edges and the 
inside core. 

“ There’s no trick about this, Polly, as there 
was with the ship in the bottle,” Mrs. Hallam 
explained. ct It took years of hard work and 
knowing how, before some patient old China¬ 
man made this ball. And then I suppose he 
sold it for just what he could get.” 

The next drawer contained a darling wee set 
of thin ivory saucers, and cups about an inch 
high. The cups had no handles, and the saucers 
were broad and shallow. On the teapot, a 
handle at one side stuck out like a second spout. 
Polly set them on the table. Then she told 
Mrs. Hallam about the dolls’ silver tea set 
which belonged to Grandmother Thorne. Mrs. 
Hallam was much interested. 

“ Well, now, to think of making silver spoons 
the size for dolls! ” she exclaimed. “ I guess 
those things belonged down Boston way. I 


ABOUT THE WHATNOT 187 


never heard of any round this part of the 
country.” 

Polly put away the ivory cups and opened 
the next drawer. It held a number of bright 
red seeds, like flat beads, and a folded piece of 
yellowed paper. Polly opened the paper to 
find a needle stuck through it and twisted into 
a tail of fine thread. 

“ There, I had forgotten where I put that! ” 
said Mrs. Hallam and she looked with great 
interest at the needle. It was a fine one, rather 
rusted, but not at all unusual in appearance. 

“ It belonged to my grandmother, Judith 
Hawkins,” Mrs. Hallam went on. “ I’ll read 
you what she wrote on this paper,” and she 
did so, while Polly listened, with eyes growing 
wide. 

“ This needle,” the delicate writing on the 
paper ran, “ is the property of Judith Plawldns. 
It has hemmed twenty-four handkerchiefs. 


188 


POLLY’S SHOP 


made eight baby-dresses with sixteen tucks in 
each, stitched eighteen shirts for Husband, and 
hemmed twelve neckerchiefs. It has crossed 
the seven Oceans of the world, and traveled 
from the Arctic Circle to the Cannibal Islands. 
I have placed it here for its well-earned rest 
this day of Our Lord, June 14, 1803.” 

Polly fairly gasped. 

“ That doesn’t mean much to people who do 
their sewing by electricity,” said Mrs. Hallam, 
as she folded the paper reverently, “ but it 
meant something to Judith. I like sometimes 
to think of her, stitching away on the deck of 
her husband’s clipper ship, with the sails hang¬ 
ing lazy above her, and the prow kinder ripplin’ 
along the Indian Ocean.” 

Another drawer contained many small carved 
ivory men and animals, which showed the way 
people lived in China. In one drawer was 
a single big pink pearl. 


ABOUT THE WHATNOT 189 


“ I suppose I shouldn’t leave this here,” said 
Mrs. Hallam, looking at it thoughtfully, “ but 
land! none of those jewelry-makers up the line 
will lay eyes on it. I shall never do anything 
with it. Pearls don’t suit a woman of my age.” 

Polly looked through a bewildering lot of 
little boxes made of sandalwood and inlaid work 
and at a quantity of carved chains and beads. 
The last drawer of all held a tiny amber heart 
on a slender silver chain. 

Polly did not know what amber was. Mrs. 
Hallam explained that it was the gum of a tree 
that grew a very long time ago, and was covered 
up in the earth and become a fossil. Little in¬ 
sects were sometimes drowned in the gum while 
it was yet soft, and so were still in the amber 
when the hardened gum was dug up ever so 
many centuries after the tree fell. In the little 
yellow heart, Mrs. Hallam showed Polly a tiny, 
perfect fly. 


190 


POLLYS SHOP 


That fly fascinated Polly. She looked at it 
for a long time. Then she put the heart care¬ 
fully into its drawer. She folded the cotton 
over it, and gave it a loving pat. 

“ Now, I will show you my sixty-seven tea¬ 
pots,” said Mrs. Hallam. 

“ Sixty-seven teapots! Do you use them 
all? ” asked the astonished Polly. 

“ I don’t use any of them,” said her hostess. 
“ The men kept bringing them home from voy¬ 
ages, till it seemed like they were under a spell 
and couldn’t bring anything but teapots. Here 
they are, in this hanging closet.” 

The teapots were all small, some very pretty, 
some merely odd. By this time Polly had seen 
so many things that she could not appreciate 
the teapots. No two were alike, and many had 
a spout for a handle, like that on the toy set. 
Two were shaped like cats, rather cross-looking 
cats, and one was a placid owl. 


ABOUT THE WHATNOT 191 

Mrs. Hallam brought lemonade in fat blue 
glasses. She gave Polly the sugar-bowl and 
told her to sweeten her lemonade just as she 
liked best. There were ginger cookies, which 
tasted very good. 

Then Polly said she must go home. “ I have 
had a nice time,” she said. “ Thank you very 
much, Mrs. Hallam. Sometime could I bring 
Mother to see Judith’s needle, and the big pink 
pearl, and the darling little amber heart? ” 

“ Of course you may, Polly. Come any 
time. There! I did mean to show you my 
old dolls. That means you’ll have to come 
again, and come right soon.” 


CHAPTER FIFTEEN 


Tells About the Pond Lilies 

N EARLY all the people who came to 
“ Polly’s Shop ” were pleasant, but 
once in a while, somebody came who did not 
like any of the books, and asked for titles which 
Cousin May did not have, and which she thought 
were not well written. These customers, when 
they came, were liable to be elderly aunts, but 
occasionally some mother was fussy and ex¬ 
acting. One day one of these people went away 
without buying anything. 

“You would do better if you would carry the 
books children like to read, and not those which 
you think they ought to read,” she said as she 
went out and Rafe came in. 


192 


THE POND LILIES 


193 


Cousin May did not make any reply, but her 
cheeks grew pink. 

“ Never mind, Lily Bell,” Rafe consoled her. 
“ She is the kind of person who would tie toy 
balloons to rubber-plants and call them Art.” 

Cousin May had to laugh, and so did Polly. 
There were no rubber-plants in Grandma’s 
sunny windows at Three Gates, but Polly had 
seen them with their stiff, clumsy leaves, and 
she thought how funny one would look w T ith 
green and red and blue balloons floating from it, 
such balloons as she had once helped sell at the 
street fair. 

Still, Polly felt quite angry with the lady. 
Have books that children liked to read ? Polly, 
and Marcia, too, liked all the books Cousin May 
had in her shop. 

On the first day of August, Cousin May and 
Mother spent most of the morning adding fig¬ 
ures and balancing accounts. May was anx- 


194 POLLYS SHOP 

ious to know whether she had paid expenses for 
the past month. This was important, because 
the fate of her winter plans depended on 
whether she could convince her father that she 
had business brains enough to run a bookshop. 

Perhaps Uncle John, if he had overheard 
the scraps of talk between his daughter and his 
niece, might have thought that the credit for 
keeping the accounts in order did not belong 
to May. 

Polly was reading while she waited for Mar¬ 
cia and Bill to come. That morning they were 
to play in the cove. 

The bookshop door opened abruptly and the 
bell tinkled. A young man came in who was 
strange and yet familiar. Polly looked at him 
for a moment, trying to think where she had seen 
him. Then Cousin May gave an exclamation. 
It was Bafe, and he had shaved off his beard 
and wore only a perky little mustache. 


THE POND LILIES 


195 


“ And how do you like it, Lily Bell? ” he 
asked. “ It was because of my new tie. No¬ 
body knew I had one.” 

Polly and her mother both laughed as Rafe 
pulled out the ends of a bright blue tie. 

“ It does make you look more intelligent,” 
said Cousin May slowly. 

“ That is of importance,” agreed Rafe, smil¬ 
ing at Polly, who smiled back, still a little puz¬ 
zled. She had never thought of Rafe as being 
any age at all, only a grown-up. Why, he was 
young, as young as Uncle Jack! 

“ Come and gather pond lilies, Lily Bell,” 
went on Rafe, calmly prinking in the mirror 
which hung between two windows. 

“ I can’t,” said May. “ Edith and I are 
busy with accounts. I really can’t go, Rafe. 
Take Polly if you like.” 

Polly jumped up instantly. “ Oh, Mother, 
may I ? ” she asked. 


196 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“ Do you want her, Rafe? ” asked Mrs. 
Winsor. 

“ As a perfect substitute for Lily Bell, — 
no,” said Rafe slowly, tying his bow for the 
third time. “ As herself, — yes. Come on, 
Polly Prim.” 

“ Oh, but Marcia and Bill! ” said Polly, her 
face falling. “ They were coming to play with 
me and they are just crossing the bridge.” 

“ Lilies grow for Marcia and Bill,” said Rafe. 
“ Why not all three? ” 

Polly rushed out to meet her friends. Mother 
was so absorbed in figures that it did not occur 
to her to ask Rafe where and how he was go¬ 
ing for lilies, nor to ask Marcia if her mother 
would be willing she and Bill should go. De¬ 
lighted with the plan, and with the complete ir¬ 
responsibility of childhood, they piled at once 
into Rafe’s waiting flivver. 

The morning was cool and sunny and all 



THE POND LILIES 


197 


Ponagansett seemed happy with people who 
were enjoying well-earned vacations. Their 
pleasure filled the air. Even the cats and dogs 
appeared to share the summer spirit. 

Rafe drove inland about five miles along a 
road that wound all the way through beautiful 
tall trees with hardly a house on either side. 
Yet the road was wide and new and in perfect 
condition. This was because it led to towns 
far away from the sea. 

Then Rafe turned into a woodland cart track 
where the branches of trees brushed the car with 
wet, clinging touches. Polly got a whole 
shower down her neck and Rafe moaned over 
a spot on his new tie. 

The cart path ended at a pretty little pond, 
surrounded by trees and bushes, and with the 
sun striking quantities of lilies floating on the 
surface. With exclamations of pleasure the 
children jumped out. 


198 POLLY’S SHOP 

Had Mrs. Winsor asked those questions, 
Polly would not have been permitted to go for 
lilies. Certainly she never dreamed that even 
careless Rafe would take those three wriggling 
children to gather pond lilies in a tippy green 
canoe. 

The three thought the canoe the best part 
of the affair. Marcia knew a little about pad¬ 
dling, so Rafe put her in the bow and gave her 
a paddle. 

“ Dip it when you like,” he said, “ but don’t 
try to steer, or we shall all get cock-eyed.” 

He settled Polly in the bottom of the boat and 
Bill just beyond her. Then he pushed the canoe 
nearly from the shore, stepped in himself, and 
took the stern seat. 

Polly had never been in a canoe before. She 
clung tightly to either side, looking dubiously 
at the water which seemed dreadfully near and 
dark. It was dark only because a great many 


THE POND LILIES 


199 


plants grew on the bottom of the pond, but Polly 
did not know this. 

“Is it drowning deep?” asked Bill cheer¬ 
fully. 

“ You can get drowned in a bath-tub,” re¬ 
plied Rafe. 

Bill considered this. “ Not unless you stick 
your head under water,” he announced. 

“ Or were sick and fell under,” added Mar¬ 
cia. “ Oh, look at the lilies! We are right in 
them.” 

Bill, with serene abandon, made a lunge for 
the nearest flower. 

“ Bill, you blunderbuss! ” exclaimed Rafe. 
“ Look what you’re doing! I don’t want to be 
dumped into this pond. There are leeches 
in it. 

“ What are leeches? ” demanded Bill. 

Polly listened for the answer. She had no 
idea, either, but the name sounded unpleasant. 


200 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“ Blood-suckers,” said Marcia calmly. “ Like 
worms. They get on your legs and suck 
blood.” 

Polly fairly shivered. Her hands grasped 
the sides of the canoe so hard that the knuckles 
turned white. 

Rafe told Marcia to take in her paddle and 
then reach carefully down and pick the lilies 
touching the canoe near her. 

“ Don’t lean at all,” he directed. “ Reach 
down and take hold of the stem below water and 
give a pull up.” 

“ Their stems feel like rubber pipe,” said 
Marcia. 

“ I want to pick some,” said Bill. 

“ Wait a bit,” warned Rafe, pulling lilies at 
his end of the canoe. 

Before long, Rafe and Marcia had a pile of 
lovely fragrant white lilies with golden hearts. 
Marcia flung them, wet and dripping, behind 


THE POND LILIES 201 

her in the canoe, quite unmindful of the water 
and mud thrown upon Bill and Polly. But for 
once, Bill said nothing. He was too interested 
in the affair to be critical. 

“ Do you want to pull some, Polly? ” asked 
Rafe. 

“ No, thank you,” said Polly, thinking of the 
leeches. Then she recalled that Marcia had 
picked at least a dozen flowers and nothing 
had happened. 

“ Yes, I would, too, please, Rafe,” she added. 

“ There’s a pretty one on this side,” said Rafe, 
pushing the canoe toward it. “ Don’t lean 
over, Polly, but just stretch your arm as you 
get close.” 

Polly let go the gunwale and reached for a 
lily. Her fingers were just closing around its 
stem when Bill decided to pull another on the 
same side of the canoe. 

“ Blizzards’ feet! ” exclaimed Rafe, making 


202 POLLY’S SHOP 

a grab for Polly. He caught the back of her 
smock as Bill went headfirst out of the canoe. 
Marcia dived out of the bow, and within ten 
seconds every one of the four was in the pond! 

Rafe landed on his feet and held on to Polly 
so her head did not go under water. For¬ 
tunately, that part of the pond was extremely 
shallow, as Rafe knew when he took the chil¬ 
dren. Bill rose from water only just above his 
waist, but oh, how dirty he was! Marcia stood 
up, dripping mud from her outspread fingers 
and from the crown of her head, and with slimy 
lily pads hanging from her hair and down her 
face. 

“Bill, you — you complete idiot!” she 
raged. 

Rafe was mud above his knees. Polly was 
soaked to her neck, but less dirty than the other 
two, because Rafe had managed to keep her 
from being ducked. Still holding her, he 




RAFE WASTED NO TIME IN ARGUMENT. —Page 202, 





THE POND LILIES 


203 


seized the edge of the canoe and pulled it to¬ 
ward him. He dumped Polly into the inch or 
two of water in its bottom. 

“ Marcia, can you walk ashore? ” he asked. 

“ I can, but I won’t,” snapped the still furious 
Marcia. “ Just wait till I tell Mother about 
you, Bill Murray, Junior! ” 

Rafe wasted no time in argument. He 
pushed the canoe before him, hastily securing 
the floating paddles, pulled the weeping Bill 
out of the mud, dropped him in beside Polly, 
and approached Marcia. 

“ Don’t be a rotten sport! ” he said. “ Bill’s 
a little brother, you know. He won’t do it 
again. And Polly’s not tearing up the earth.” 

“ She didn’t land on her head in this dirty 
old pond,” grumbled Marcia, but her anger sub¬ 
sided and she climbed into the canoe, which 
Rafe, still standing in the mud, steadied for her. 
He pushed it ashore before stepping in. 


204 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“ It’s cleaner the other side of the pond,” he 
said, beginning to paddle quickly. “ We will 
get over there and wash up.” 

The three ruffled children, dripping mud and 
warm pond water, and the canoe smeared with 
slime and swishing with water, were before 
Rafe’s eyes as he paddled. All four were silent, 
but Rafe was shaking with laughter as he swiftly 
made the little sandy beach where he kept his 
canoe. 

“ Now, Marcia, the best thing you and Bill 
can do is to go in and rinse off,” he advised 
them. “ See, the water here is clean and the 
bottom hard. Polly isn’t so muddy. I’ll 
wring her out while you two wash up. You 
certainly need it.” 

This advice pleased the Murrays. Both wore 
few garments, and those went into the wash- 
tub at the end of a day. Marcia rinsed her 
bobbed brown hair, and felt better as her face 


THE POND LILIES 


205 


once more grew clean. Rafe wrung what water 
he could from Polly’s smock. 

Bill waded ashore and began to examine his 
bare legs for leeches. Marcia did likewise. 

“ I’ve got one! ” she exclaimed in a tone of 
triumph. 

Polly could not help wanting to know what 
a leech looked like, but she took only one look 
at the horrid black wriggling thing firmly at¬ 
tached to Marcia’s ankle. She closed her eyes 
when Marcia pulled it off and threw it away. 
There was a tiny red spot where the leech had 
bitten her. 

Rafe gathered the lilies, which, strange to say, 
were still in the canoe, though somewhat dam¬ 
aged by the flounderings of the three soaked 
children. He walked into the pond, washed out 
the canoe, rinsed off his own knickerbockers, 
once white, and turned to the car. 

“ Lucky we are all used to cold sea-bathing,” 


206 POLLY’S SHOP 

he observed. “ Ten minutes’ ride in wet clothes 
probably won’t hurt anybody. Marcia, you 
put this coat of mine around you and Polly. 
Bill, old chap, we will squeeze you between us 
and keep you warm that way.” 

“ I’m nearly dry now,” said Bill. “ I sha’n’t 
bother to change my clothes when I get home.” 

“ Neither shall I,” said Marcia. “You 
needn’t even drive us home, Rafe. I’m going 
to stop and play with Polly.” 

“ Well, I am sorry we upset,” said Rafe 
mirthfully, “ but no harm seems done.” 

“No,” agreed Marcia, quite herself again, 
“ and, anyway, I was the only one who got a 
leech! ” 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN 

Tells How Grandma Came 

G RANDMA and Uncle Jack were ex¬ 
pected for the last two weeks of August. 
At that time, Ponagansett was always crowded 
and it was not easy for visitors to find a room. 
Uncle Jack was to sleep in the near-by studio 
building, and a room had long ago been engaged 
for Grandma in the house where they took 
their dinners. Just two days before she was to 
come, some one in the family was taken ill. The 
room would be needed. 

“ I don’t see how we are to manage,” said 
Mrs. Winsor. “ I did so want Mother to be 
comfortable.” 


207 


208 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“ Does it mean Grandma can’t come? ” asked 
Polly. 

“ Oh, no, she will come, but if we can’t engage 
another room, we shall have to put a second cot 
in the bookroom, and I am afraid that Grandma 
would not enjoy herself nearly so well. She 
isn’t used, as we are now, to having strangers 
come in, and she wouldn’t have any place where 
she could rest and be by herself. I must think 
what can be done.” 

Polly and Mother were on their way to 
church. As often happened, they walked home 
with Captain and Mrs. Hallam, and Mother 
chanced to mention her problem. 

“ Why, your mother can come to our house,” 
said Mrs. Hallam at once. “ I’ve a nice room 
downstairs right across from where Captain 
and I sleep. I think she’d be comfortable. I 
would certainly try to make her so.” 

“ Mrs. Hallam, how wonderful! ” exclaimed 


HOW GRANDMA CAME 209 


Mother. “ But I never dreamed of such a 
thing when I spoke just now. I only thought 
you might know of somebody who would let me 
have a room.” 

“ Well, we don't let rooms very commonly,” 
Mrs. Hallam admitted, “ but we feel, Captain 
and me, as though you and Polly were more like 
own folks than most of the summer people. 
You couldn’t find a room now in Ponagansett; 
they are scarcer than hens’ teeth. We’ll be 
glad to have your mother stay with us as long 
as she is here.” 

So it came out all right, and on August fif¬ 
teenth, Mother and Polly watched eagerly for 
Justin and Grandma and Uncle Jack and 
Kerry. A neighbor near Three Gates was to 
care for Mittens. 

They came, rather later than the June day 
when Uncle Jack brought Polly, but the days 
were now shorter, and there was more traffic on 


210 POLLY’S SHOP 

the road, and Grandma did not like to drive 
very fast. 

How she hugged Mother and Polly! And 
she exclaimed over how well they looked, and 
how brown they had grown, and what a big girl 
Polly was getting to be! 

“ Almost above my shoulder,” Grandma de¬ 
cided. 

“ Yes,” said Polly’s mother. “ It means she 
won’t have any winter clothes she can wear.” 

“ Put a brick on her head,” advised Uncle 
Jack, seizing his chance to hug Polly. “ You 
surely have some genuine sun-tan stockings.” 

“ Haven’t I? ” agreed Polly, looking at her 
sturdy brown legs. Only for dress-up had she 
worn even socks all summer long. 

Polly and Mother took Grandma over to the 
Hallam cottage and Uncle Jack went across 
to the studio building where Rafe had promised 
to find him a plank to sleep on. 


HOW GRANDMA CAME 211 

Grandma liked the clean little room which 
Mrs. Hallam showed her. Its ceiling was so 
low that even Grandma, who wasn’t very tall, 
could touch it. The bed was an old four-poster, 
with a canopy of knotted cords. The two win¬ 
dows looked on the sea. Mrs. Hallam apolo¬ 
gized for the mosquito-netting tacked in their 
frames. 

“We haven’t any proper screens for this 
room,” she explained. “ It isn’t used very 
often, but the minjies are gone now and this 
will keep out the seekabouts.” 

“ Midges and mosquitoes,” said Polly’s 
mother in a swift whisper as Mrs. Hallam went 
to roll higher one of the shades. 

“ Oh,” said Grandma. 

“ The midges are gone now,” said Polly. 
“ Such teenty little flies, Grandma. You could 
hardly see them, but Rafe says they bite like 
lions.” 


212 


POLLYS SHOP 


They left her, with extra kisses, to wash her 
hands and rest before supper. When it was 
time, they would come and get her. 

The bookshop accounts had added up well 
for July, and August had been much busier. 
More people were in Ponagansett, and the repu¬ 
tation of “ Polly’s Shop ” was growing fast. 
Cousin May was happy, because her father 
would surely think she had done well enough 
so that he would let her have her winter shop. 

The story-hour started the first Wednesday 
in August, and over thirty children came to 
listen. Marcia and Bill came, and others from 
the cottages and hotels. The stories were told 
on Wednesday and Saturday at five o’clock. 

Because she knew the Murray children so 
well, Polly always sat with them to enjoy the 
stories. She persuaded Grandma to come on 
her first Wednesday. 

“ May won’t want me,” Grandma objected. 


HOW GRANDMA CAME 213 


“ Of course I want you, Aunt Sophia,” 
Cousin May exclaimed at once. “ You may 
not care for my stories, but you will like to 
watch the children. Some of them are ducks, 
aren’t they, Polly? ” 

“ There was a dear little boy last time, 
Grandma, with yellow hair and big gray eyes,” 
said Polly. “ You would love him. He came 
rather early, so I showed him pictures. When 
he saw one of a zebra, he looked at it a long time, 
and then he asked me if that horse was trying to 
be a tiger.” 

Grandma said she would like to come to the 
story-hour if she might sit in the back of the 
room, almost behind the curtain. 

“ I should feel odd to be the only grown-up 
person there,” she said. 

“ But you won’t be,” Polly assured her. 
“ Bafe comes almost every time. Cousin May 
tries not to let him, but he will come.” 


214 


POLLYS SHOP 


“You may as well make up your mind to 
accept Rate, Mother,” said Mrs. Winsor. 
“ He is May’s tame pussy-cat, and a good 
friend to us all.” 

“ I shall be glad to meet Rafe,” said 
Grandma, “ though, from that picture he lent 
May, I am afraid he has mistaken what he is 
meant to do in life. It seems odd to me that 
nobody knows any other name for him. How¬ 
ever, Jack says he likes him.” 

So, that afternoon, Grandma came over 
early to the bookshop and took a seat just at the 
edge of the curtain which shut off the “ kitch.” 
Cousin May sat on a cushion on the floor, with 
her back against the wall by the fireplace, and 
the children sat in a half-circle facing her. 
There were not cushions for everybody, but 
they did not care. 

The children were seated and Cousin May 
had begun her first story when the door 


HOW GRANDMA CAME 215 

opened and Rafe came in. The children 
merely glanced at him and turned again to 
Cousin May. 

Rafe looked around the room till he saw 
Grandma, sitting in the shadow of the curtain 
with her pretty white hair and black-and-white 
muslin, with a knot of black ribbon at her breast. 
Rafe looked at her a moment, and then he 
stepped softly around the children, not dis¬ 
turbing them at all. In his hand he had a little 
bunch of heliotrope. With it he touched very 
gently Grandma’s soft hair, and then he smiled 
at her, just as a child smiles, and laid the flowers 
in her lap. 

A touch of pink came into Grandma’s cheeks. 
She smiled at Rafe and lifted the flowers in her 
thin fingers. 

Rafe sat flat down on the floor with his back 
against Cousin May’s desk, and listened to the 
story as earnestly as the rest. 


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 


r 


Tells About the Breakfast Party 


P OLLY’S summer had fairly flown and 
little wonder, when it was so filled with 
pleasant happenings. How many good times 
she had shared with Marcia and Bill, on the 
beach and the rocks and in the bookshop and in 
the Murray home! They found so many in¬ 
teresting things to do that Fair Rosamond had 
been lef t in bed f or days at a stretch. Blue skies 
and sunny seas and cool breezes quite outnum¬ 
bered the rainy or hot days. And the fort¬ 
night of Grandma’s stay went quickest of all. 

Polly and Mother had planned a number of 
things to do when Grandma was there, and they 

did some of them, but those weeks proved the 

216 


THE BREAKFAST PARTY 217 


very busiest of all in “ Polly’s Shop,” and 
Mother was obliged to help Cousin May more 
than usual. 

Grandma and Mrs. Hallam enjoyed each 
other, and Polly had the great satisfaction of 
showing Grandma all the things on the what¬ 
not and in the pretty Chinese cabinet. To her, 
the amber heart with its imprisoned fly, — the 
fly that lived so many years ago that Polly 
could not imagine them, — still seemed the 
choicest of all. She was surprised to find 
Grandma much interested in the sixty-seven 
teapots, and very much impressed by Judith’s 
needle. 

“ To think of the thousands of stitches it 
has taken! ” she exclaimed, and she read again 
the list of garments it had made. “ And the 
places it traveled to while she was sewing them, 
and all so long ago! ” 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Hallam. “ I do feel to 



218 POLLY’S SHOP 

appreciate that needle. It has earned a right 
to rest, even if it is already over a hundred years 
since Judith set it aside.” 

Polly waited patiently till Grandma laid 
down the yellowed slip of paper. 

“ Let’s skip to the bottom drawer,” she 
coaxed. “ The nicest thing of all is there.” 

“What — that little heart?” asked Mrs. 
Hallam. “ It is sort of pretty and odd, but 
there’s lots of amber in the world. When I was 
a little girl, ’most everybody had a string of 
amber beads.” 

“ I had some myself,” said Grandma. “ I 
gave them to my daughter Barbara. I don’t 
believe you ever saw them, Polly.” 

“ Was this heart yours? ” Polly asked Mrs. 
Hallam, and looking lovingly at the gauzy 
wings of the little fly. 

“ I disremember just where that did come 
from,” Mrs. Hallam replied thoughtfully. 



THE BREAKFAST PARTY 219 


“ It may have been with some things from 
Captain’s side of the house. No, I never wore 
it, and I don’t believe anybody ever did in 
my day.” 

Polly lingered to look again at the little ivory 
tea set, but when Mrs. Hallam began to show 
Grandma a drawer full of old photographs, 
she ran out to see what was going on at the 
bookshop. 

Uncle Jack spent his time bathing, playing 
golf, and driving about the country. He and 
Pafe struck up such a friendship that Polly 
felt quite cheated of her uncle. Rafe did not 
paint at all; they were always off doing some¬ 
thing together. 

Even Mother went to a dance one Saturday 
night. She had never gone before, because 
she did not wish to leave Polly alone. On the 
night of this dance, Polly slept with Grandma 
in the big four-poster bed in the low-ceiled 


220 POLLY’S SHOP 

room. Fair Rosamond went also, spool-bed 
and all. 

In the morning, Mrs. Hallam knocked at 
their door as soon as she heard them talking. 
“ We’re expectin’ you to breakfast, Captain 
and me,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “ No, 
it isn’t one mite of trouble, and they’ll want to 
be sleepin’ late over at the shop this Sunday 
morning.” 

When they came into Mrs. Hallam’s spotless 
kitchen, Polly was pleased to find a chair drawn 
ready for Fair Rosamond. 

“ It’s nice to see a little girl who loves her 
dolly,” said Mrs. Hallam affectionately. 
“ You’ll be keeping her along the years just 
as I’ve kept mine I showed you.” 

Polly’s seat was next to the Captain, and he 
heaped her plate with fresh flounder and 
johnny-cake. He passed her the doughnuts 
and, when he was sure nobody was taking more 


THE BREAKFAST PARTY 221 


coffee, emptied the cream pitcher into Polly’s 
glass of milk. 

Polly was not used to that kind of breakfast, 
and she thought it odd, but she did her best to 
eat when she saw Grandma doing so. Grandma 
praised the delicately browned fish. 

“ It ought to be fresh, ma’am,” said the Cap¬ 
tain. “ It was swimmin’ not an hour ago.” 

“ Why do they call them flounders? ” Polly 
inquired. “ I asked Rafe, but he said he never 
saw a flounder flounding.” 

“ Well, now, I don’t know,” said the Cap¬ 
tain thoughtfully. “ They do flap around 
rather active when you pull them out of water, 
but that’s the only reason I know.” 

“ They could have called them flappers,” said 
Polly, and didn’t understand why the others 
smiled. 

The plan was for Polly to go home with 
Grandma and Uncle Jack. Her school began 


222 


POLLYS SHOP 


the second week in September. Mother did 
not have to begin teaching until the first of Oc¬ 
tober, but she very much wished to go back with 
the others. 

“Do you think I ought to stay with May? ” 
she asked Mrs. Clifford. “ Of course the book¬ 
shop has been busy through August, but so 
many people leave right after Labor Day. I 
have been away now three months, and I want 
to go home with you all. Miss Perkins says 
she will help May if she needs it, and I thought, 
if I did not stay, Uncle John and Aunt Mary 
might drive down and help her shut the place.” 

“ Rafe says he can sell books,” observed 
Polly. “ He said he should not presume to 
interfere with the printed part, but if people 
didn’t like the pictures, he would pull them 
out and make new ones, by jinks! ” 

“ Polly, I wouldn’t quote Rafe’s expres¬ 
sions,” said her mother. 


THE BREAKFAST PARTY 223 


“ But he said just that,” said Polly. “ And 
he said that he would defend Lily Bell with 
his life and with his palette knife, and when 
it came to shutting the shop, he could sling a 
wicked hammer and drive a crafty nail.” 

“ Polly! That really will do! ” said Mother 
reprovingly. 

Grandma listened smiling. “ How does May 
feel about your going home with us ? ” she asked. 

“ Oh, she is sweet about it,” replied her 
daughter. “ She appreciates my helping her 
this summer, and I have enjoyed doing it. The 
sea air has been good for Polly, and I have 
learned something about painting and it has 
been lovely down here in the cove. I should 
not like to be in the other part of the village, 
near the bathing beach. The only trouble is 
that there are always too many people around. 
I like a quieter place.” 

“ If May feels that way, I think it is all right 


224 POLLY'S SHOP 

for you to leave her and come home with us,” 
said Mrs. Clifford. 

“ Do come, Mother,” urged Polly, with arms 
about her mother’s neck. 

“ I surely want to, darling. But there is 
one thing I want to do this last week,” Mrs. 
Winsor went on to her mother, “ and that is to 
have some sort of party for the people who have 
been so nice to us all summer. I did make a 
marshmallow roast on the rocks for Marcia and 
Bill, for they have done so much for Polly. 
But this frolic I want to include May and Rafe 
and all the Murrays and Captain and Mrs. 
Hallam, and I can’t think what to do that every¬ 
body would enjoy. They are such different 
kinds of people, you see.” 

“ From what I have seen of them, I should 
say they all had one important thing in com¬ 
mon,” said Grandma quietly, “ and that is, a 
habit of kindness toward other people. How 


THE BREAKFAST PARTY 


225 


about a clam-bake on the rocks, Edith? They 
would all enjoy that, and it would please Cap¬ 
tain Hallam to advise you about it.” 

“ Oh, Mother, it is the very thing! ” exclaimed 
her daughter. “ We haven’t had one all sum¬ 
mer, and that is something everybody would 
like.” 


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 


Tells About the Clam-Bake 
OU leave it to me,” said Captain Hal- 



J- lam, beaming all over his face, “ just 
leave it to me. You’ll need, say, two pecks 
of clams. I’ll see to heating the rocks and 
the children will help pick up the seaweed. 
How about lobsters? ” 

Mrs. Winsor looked at her brother. 

“ Lobsters, by all means,” he agreed. “ And 
potatoes, Captain Hallam? ” 

“ Have ’em if you like,” assented the old 
fisherman, “ but, if you take my advice, you’ll 
make ’em sweet potatoes. They steam up 
better than the Irish ones.” 

“ Come to think of it, clam-bake potatoes al¬ 
ways are sweet ones,” Jack agreed. 


226 


THE CLAM-BAKE 


227 


“ Brown bread and butter,” went on the 
Captain. “ Somehow that sets well with clams. 
And watermillon to end with? ” 

“ I saw some beauties uptown this morning,” 
said Jack. “ It’s late for them now. I’ll run 
up and buy two before they are gone. And I’ll 
get the wood for the fire, Captain.” 

“ Best collect it as soon as you’ve bought the 
watermillons,” advised the Captain. “ The 
stones have to be heated clean through before 
we can start the bake, and she ought to steam 
a while before we open her.” 

“ Looks like my busy day! ” laughed Jack. 
“ I’ll be right back, Captain. Edith, the 
brown bread is up to you and Mother.” 

Polly, Marcia, and Bill, in bathing-suits and 
sneakers, gathered seaweed brought up by the 
tide. There was not. enough, so they tore more 
from exposed rocks. 

Captain Hallam was surely “ giving his 


228 POLLY'S SHOP 

mind ” to this clam-bake. He collected a 
quantity of loose stones of the right size, ar¬ 
ranged them in a solid circle, and built upon 
them a fire, not large, but hot. From time to 
time, other stones were added to the original 
heap. 

At last, the Captain declared the stones suf¬ 
ficiently “ het up.” He let the fire die into a 
mass of glowing embers. 

Everything had been collected close at hand. 
The clams were washed and tied into four cloth 
bags. 

“ So they can be served hot each time,” Polly 
gleefully explained to Mother, who came down 
with the carefully washed sweet potatoes. 

The fire was raked from the stones. Clams, 
potatoes, six lobsters, and three dozen ears of 
corn in the husk were tucked away in layers of 
wet seaweed which began to steam the instant 
it touched the hot stones. When everything 



The Captain heaped up the weed .—Page 228 








THE CLAM BAKE 229 

was in, the Captain heaped up the weed until 
there was only a big cone-shaped mass, so thick 
that it held inside nearly all the steam that was 
coming from the contact with the hot stones at 
the bottom. 

Everybody who had been helping went home 
to get washed, but Captain Hallam stayed be¬ 
hind. He hovered over his seaweed cone with 
all the joy of an artist in his handiwork. 

Mrs. Winsor had made a hasty trip to the 
village for paper plates, cups, and napkins. 
The resources of the “ kitch ” were not equal to 
such a strain. Behind the curtain that after¬ 
noon, Polly and Grandma made quantities of 
thin, brown-bread sandwiches. 

“ They can’t guess what we are doing, can 
they? ” Polly whispered, when there was a sud¬ 
den rush of customers into the bookshop. 

“ Not unless they smell this nice steamed 
brown bread,” Grandma agreed. 


230 POLLY’S SHOP 

There was lemonade to be made in a milk- 
can borrowed from the Hallams, who also lent 
a big knife to cut the melons and a kettle 
to boil coffee. 

The bake was to be opened at five o’clock. 
Just before the hour, Cousin May locked the 
door of “ Polly’s Shop.” 

“ I shall not open it again to-night for any 
one,” she announced firmly. “Not even for 
the President of the United States and the 
King of Great Britain! ” 

Marcia and Bill came running along the cliff 
path, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Murray. Bafe 
was placing cushions and bringing baskets and 
food, while Jack tended the coffee over a sepa¬ 
rate little fire. 

Mrs. IJallam and Grandma were given the 
seats of honor, on special cushions so arranged 
that each had a rock to lean against and was 
well sheltered from any wind. 


THE CLAM BAKE 


231 


The ocean heaved gently, showing soft colors 
from the setting sun. The sky was blue and 
pale gray and pink. Later would come the 
moon. 

The children, and indeed, most of the older 
people, crowded close to see Captain open that 
bake, which he did very deftly with an iron fork 
with three prongs and a long handle. It was 
exactly like Neptune’s trident. 

The seaweed was tossed aside, steaming more 
and more as he reached the inner layers. Out 
came a big red lobster. Out came a bunch of 
corn ears; out came the sweet potatoes and the 
first bag of clams. Everything was cooked 
to a turn. 

No one stood on ceremony. Grandma and 
Mrs. Hallam had everything passed to them. 
The rest stood around and helped themselves, 
and simply ate. 

“ Nobody expects you to have any table- 


232 POLLY’S SHOP 

manners at a clam-bake,” said Marcia. “ When 
I keep house, I shall have one every day.” 

“ I don’t like the clams’ tails,” announced 
Bill. 

“ It’s a neck, not a tail,” his sister informed 
him. 

“ It looks like a tail,” retorted Bill. 

“ Throw it away,” ordered Rafe. “ You’re 
not supposed to eat it.” 

Everybody ate till he could eat no more. 
“ I’d like another piece of watermelon,” Bill 
admitted, “ but I can’t swallow it.” 

“ Don’t kill yourself, son,” advised his fa¬ 
ther. “ Remember school begins soon.” 

“ Well, if I could begin all over again,” 
grumbled Bill, “ I certainly wouldn’t start go¬ 
ing to school.” 

The moon came up and the stars came out 
and the sunset glow faded. They watched the 
dying fire and told stories and talked and sang, 


THE CLAM-BAKE 233 

and nobody so much as mentioned bedtime for 
the children. But at last, Mrs. Murray said 
they must go. 

“ It’s the nicest time we’ve had all summer,” 
declared Marcia frankly. “ O dear, I wish 
Polly didn’t have to go home! I wish we were 
all going to leave at the same time, and nobody 
be left behind.” 

“ And how about me and Mother? ” asked 
Captain Hallam. “ Looks like we’d be left, 
anyway. But I’d like to say that I’ve thor¬ 
oughly enjoyed this party, and I thank you 
kindly, ma’am, for invitin’ us.” 

He ended with a little bow to Mrs. Winsor. 

“The idea!” she exclaimed. “Why, we 
couldn’t have had the bake without you to show 
us how.” 

“ Three cheers for the Captain! ” exclaimed 
Uncle Jack, and they all joined him. 

All too soon, came the day when Uncle Jack’s 


234 FOLLY’S SHOP 

vacation was over and he must go back to the 
office. To pack into and upon Justin, four 
people, one dog, and all the luggage was not 
easy, but it was done at last. 

Polly distributed hugs and kisses to her 
friends of the summer, collected at “ Polly’s 
Shop ” to say good-bye. The Murrays were 
all there, and Captain in his fishing-boots and 
Mrs. Hallam in her checked gingham apron, 
and Rafe and May, with other friends from 
shops and studios. 

When Polly said good-bye to Mrs. Hallam, 
she felt a little package tucked into her hand. 

“ Open it after you get started,” the old lady 
whispered. “ It’s just a trifle to remind you 
of us. And come back next summer, little girl. 
We’ll be thinkin’ of you this winter, Captain 
and me.” 

“ Oh, thank you! ” said Polly, looking in sur¬ 
prise at the tiny package. “ Thank you very 


THE CLAM BAKE 


235 


much, Mrs. Hallam. And I’ll surely come 
back if Mother comes, too.” 

As Justin turned from the lane into the road, 
they waved to the group by the bookshop door. 
The little house looked more weather-beaten 
than ever, and hollyhocks and larkspur showed 
that summer was gone. But beyond it, the sea 
crashed on the rocks just as it had done the first 
day Polly came to Ponagansett. 

“ We have had a very happy time,” said 
Grandma, turning from the front seat where 
she sat with Uncle Jack. “ I am so glad that 
May’s shop has been such a success, and I must 
say that you made some pleasant friends, Edith. 
I like them all.” 

44 1 wasn’t sure how you would feel about 
Rafe,” replied her daughter. 44 I knew you 
would like the others, but Rafe is so unexpected 
in his ways.” 

44 1 like Rafe, too,” said Grandma quietly. 


236 


POLLY’S SHOP 


“ We had a long talk the night of the clam¬ 
bake. And, all things considered, I think he is 
wise in not telling his name.” 

“ Mother! ” exclaimed both her son and her 
daughter. 

“Do you mean he told you what it is ? asked 
Mrs. Winsor. 

“ Yes,” said Grandma calmly, “ and I don’t 
feel that I can betray his confidence, beyond 
saying that he belongs to a family so exceed¬ 
ingly well-known that he would have no peace 
of his life if any one in Ponagansett knew. I 
think he has mistaken his vocation, but when 
he decides that he can’t paint, there is an old- 
established family business waiting for him. 
When he came here, he wanted to make friends 
with people who would like him just for him¬ 
self and for no other reason. As for his first 
name — ” 

Grandma hesitated. “ Yes,” she went on, 


THE CLAM-BAKE 237 

after a pause for thought, “ I think it can do 
no harm to tell you that it chances to be a 
family surname which he very much dislikes. 
He would not let even that be known, because 
he was determined that nobody this summer 
should have the chance to call him ‘ Pet’! ” 
When they stopped laughing, Polly showed 
the little package to Mother. 

“ Mrs. Hallam gave it to me to remember her 
by. What do you suppose it is? ” 

“ I’m not guessing because I happen to 
know,” said Mother merrily. “ Mrs. Hallam 
told Grandma, and Grandma told me. Some¬ 
thing that will please you very much, sweet¬ 
heart.” 

Polly opened the paper. Inside, was one of 
the small pretty boxes of old ivory from the Chi¬ 
nese lacquer chest. Inside the box, wrapped in 
cotton, lay the little amber heart. 


THE END 















































































































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